


What Dean Needed Most

by Armybrat26



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Confused Castiel (Supernatural), Emotional Dean Winchester, Mpreg, Platonic Cuddling, Pregnant Dean Winchester, Supportive Sibling Sam Winchester, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armybrat26/pseuds/Armybrat26
Summary: After stopping the sun from dying and the world from ending (again) Amara says she "wanted to do the same" for him, Dean didn't know what that meant until he found Mary in the cemetery. But, a few weeks later, he isn't sure that was what Amara meant. It starts with the morning sickness.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 39
Kudos: 180





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I liked the ending of season 11, to a fault, I changed a few things in this timeline. No, none of the characters are mine, but the rest of the shit is.
> 
> Dean comes back to the bunker with Mary. Sam is home but Castiel is the one that's gone missing.

Leaning over the toilet, he releases all of that morning's, and what felt like yesterday's, breakfast into the bowl. His stomach seizes and he can only kneel, waiting for the ride to end.

It's been happening on and off for the better part of three weeks now. He was so sure that it had just been a small bug or the flu, but let it be said that nothing was ever easy for Dean Winchester. With his luck he probably had the bubonic plague.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he slumps to the ground. The bunker's bathroom is hardly discreet, the toilets were private but damn if everyone wasn't washing their hands at the same time. He wants to wash out the remnants of his brunch date with the toilet, but he knows Sam is just on the other side, probably combing his stupid hair or putting on mascara.

He hears the broken and rumbling sounds of mouthwash and his own mouth practically salivates.

Dammit.

Sliding a hand down his face, Dean tries to mentally erase the past five minutes in his mind as he opens the door. As slowly and nonchalantly as possible, he saunters over to the sinks. Sam is looking at him through the mirror, his eyes already conveying the questions he's dying to pester Dean with.

Sam knows he's been sick lately, he's probably wondering what the hell is going on, but to be honest, so was Dean. He could practically eat a stick of butter and be fine, his stomach was ironclad...normally.

Now though, for whatever reason, it was being a bitch.

Like Sam.

The thought makes him smile, and Sam is thankfully too busy rinsing out toothpaste to notice. Dean makes quick work of rinsing out his mouth, his knees practically going weak at the thought of being clean. He almost makes it out scott-free, but Sam's already finished getting ready for the day, and he's still there.

Like some weird formality, he waits until Dean's finished, his arms are crossed over his chest in deep contemplation. He looks kind of like their dad when he does that. If Dean straightens up because of that, he doesn't notice, but he puts his toiletries away all the same.

"Dean-

"I know, before you say anything else, I know. It ain't normal chucking up this much and this often."

"So why don't you just go to the doctor?" Sam asks and Dean hates how tempting that idea is.

"I'll figure it out, I don't need some creepy old dude in gloves telling me to bend over and cough for a little nausea."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Waving his hands out, Sam's eyes nearly bulge out of his head. Of course the little nerd thinks he should see a doctor.

"Dean! You could be sick or-or you could have a strand of the flu virus. The flu kills like 300,000 people per year around the world. Half of our job is traveling around9, you could have caught it from anyone!"

"Oh for the love of- you know what, fine. I'll go to the friggen doctor if it will shut you up." Dean seethes. 

Like the little shit that he is, Sam smiles.

"Okay, but I'm coming with you."

A second ago, Dean hadn't thought it possible for his frown to go down any further, but now he knows it can.

"Can it Samantha, I can take myself to the damn doctor and come back in one piece."

Honestly, he probably couldn't. Driving made him queasy, as much as he hated to admit. But that wasn't the point. He didn't want to know if something was wrong. They had just gotten mom back and he knew there were going to be repercussions, there always were when things like this happened. Nothing good ever happened to them for no reason. Sure, he may have ended a feud between God and his sister, but fate liked kicking him in the junk whenever it got the chance.

If Sam went, that would mean he'd actually go to the doctor and the doctor would most likely find some crazy shit. And then he'd die. Because that was how unlucky he was.

"No Dean, I'm going with you, I don't want you bailing at the last second. You need to go to the doctor so just suck it up and get dressed. We're going."

Grumbling, Dean storms off to his room, most definitely not slamming his door.

An hour later has them sitting in the waiting room of the nearest doctor. A private practice, small, but this was rural Kansas he wasn't expecting Vegas. Anything bigger than a shoe box worked for him.

The receptionist had already taken the clipboard he had filled out with their latest (fakest) credentials. He went with his first name just to be ahead of the curve. He could answer to pretty much any name by now, but if something really was wrong, he wanted the doctor to tell him, the REAL him, or as close as he could get without turning up any old warrants.

Sam is sitting patiently beside him, flipping through the pages of some health-freak magazine, probably taking notes in his head.

Dean couldn't sit still for the life of him. He was shifting in his seat, his leg bouncing up and down at varying speeds. He contemplated taking his phone out but he didn't want to be mid-text with his mom until he absolutely knew what was wrong.

He sighs. It's been three, almost four weeks that Mary has been back and he wants to talk to her all the time. Like when he was a kid and he'd wait outside of the bathroom for her to finish. Kind of like what Sam had done for him today.

Maybe Sammy wasn't like their dad, maybe he was like their mom.

The thought was a pleasant one, giving him the smallest of smiles and the biggest waves of pride in his chest.

Dean turned to look at his brother, the words practically dancing on his tongue. He contemplates saying them out loud but they were blocked by this sudden cloud of emotion that he swore he didn't have seconds ago. Nearly ready to burst into tears, Dean turned away, simultaneously pissed off and embarrassed.

What the hell was going on?

Before he could even try to come up with a possible answer, a man in a white lab coat called out his name.

"Dean Bonham?" 

Blinking, Dean got to his feet, patting Sammy once on the shoulder as he approached the doctor.

"Hello, Mr. Bonham, I'm Dr. Mercury how are you doing today?"

Dean took hold of his hand, shaking it once and shrugging his shoulders.

"Sick. Not much else to it doc, but my brother said I should come down here and double check...so...here I am."

Sam was still sitting in the waiting area, pretending like he wasn't eavesdropping. Dean rolled his eyes, but he was happy nonetheless. It was nice to have someone in his corner. Even if he was a pain in the ass.

"Alright, well let's head on back to the examination room and we'll try an have a look-see at what might be the problem."

With one last look at his brother, Dean followed after the doctor.

"Doc, I gotta be honest, I got pretty weird luck so if I'm sick it's probably something weird or something old. If it's bad, I'm telling you, I probably got it. And if I don't got it, I'll probably get flattened by a piano or something on my way out of the office."

Gesturing him to enter the examination room, Dr. Mercury was wearing an amused smile. He strode over to the sink in the room, washing his hands before he could add any commentary on Dean's colorful diagnosis.

"I'm sure it's not as severe as you might be thinking, but I will not exclude any possibility out of the picture here."

A small check up with his ears, eyes, and nose didn't show him much, but the doctor continued on with his examination. Dean sat, only moving when the doctor wanted to him to, and tried not to think about the possibilities of what might be causing his sickness.

Finishing the preliminary examination, the doctor sat down in front of him, the clipboard holding his intake form in hand. "So, I see on your form you said you were experiencing strong bouts of nausea, I have to ask, are you taking anything that might be inspiring nausea or inducing vomiting?"

Dean shook his head, he and Sam hardly took anything stronger than an aspirin, and if any injuries needed something stronger, they had whiskey.

"Any recent activities that could have started this, and this could be a manner of all sorts of things. Sudden spikes of nerves, lingering anxiety, stomach sensitivity, anything you can come up with that could possibly help me find what I'm looking for?

Dean was ready to shake his head again, put out by all of these damn questions, but then he thought about his mother and their recent battle with God and Amara, and then the battle changing into a peace treaty. Honestly, that was a whole whirlwind of emotions and constant stress. It makes his stomach turn just thinking about it.

"Stress, yeah, that could be a, uh, a factor. But I haven't been doing much of what I was a couple weeks back. I guess my body is catching up with me or something. I'm like, constantly tired and my back hurts. I also- well, I wasn't going to say this, but I don't normally burst into tears. I was seconds away from losing it in the waiting room over something that shouldn't have made me...upset?"

Dean shook his head again, the beginnings of a headache threatening him already.

"Y'know what, its probably just stress, I'm sorry doc-

Doctor Mercury had been noting down his symptoms while he was talking, but Dean wasn't paying attention until now. The doctor looked up, waiting to see if Dean would continue or not, and when the hunter remained silent, the doctor picked up the lull almost immediately.

"I think I'd like to take a couple of blood samples and run a few tests, try and see if there might be any contributing factors other than stress, but I can call you in a few days to process the results."

A blood pressure test and a blood sample later and the doctor was patting him on the shoulder.

"All right Mr. Bonham, I will look into your samples as soon as I can, until then, try to stay away from foods or drinks that could possibly worsen your stomach problem. No alcohol, greasy food, stick to baked or boiled things, especially fresh fruits or vegetables. Anything you can stomach, you should eat."

Dean nodded once again, if not begrudgingly, and allowed the doctor to lead him back to the waiting room. Dean jerked his head toward the door as soon as Sam looked up. The two were in the impala, Sam was staring at him expectantly, but Dean waved off his concern. When he got answers, Sam could get answers, until then the little shit could wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a call back from the doctor's, he's got to come in for a few more tests.

The past two weeks had driven him nearly to the brink.

He was losing his mind.

He was going to kill him. And no magic would ever bring him back.

"So get this, I found this recipe for a spinach and mushroom omelet-

Dean was currently laying face down in his bed, trying (key word here) to sleep. His body was aching from the activity it hadn't been doing. The doctor had yet to have called him back with any results, something Sam repeatedly kept telling him would take time.

It was morning, not that there were any windows in the bunker to indicate the time, but the happiness in his brother's voice sounded like he just got back from his morning run. And for some reason, he thought it would be a good idea to wake Dean up with the threat of an omelet.

"Sammy, I swear, if you ever say spinach, mushroom and omelet again, I'm going to projectile vomit all over you."

The light in his room switched on and suddenly his nose was saturated with the stench of whatever putrid meal Sam had created. Honestly, if Dean had made the omelet himself, all the stupid rabbit food included, it probably would have been all right. Something that Dean could have eaten. But for some weird reason, Sam was just a terrible cook. The scent of the spinach, burnt by the hint of char Dean smelled, made everything that he had managed to stomach roll.

He was up instantly, shoving past his brother and rushing toward the closest toilet.

He had gotten used to a few no-no's with his stomach over the past week. No sausage, for whatever weird reason, no pineapple, no almond milk (the name should have been warning enough) and absolutely NO celery. Throwing up because of the smell of something burnt was not a first, it was also something he could not pin on his stomach.

No, he knew why he couldn't stand the smell of smoke, ash, or anything remotely over cooked. 

Hell.

His mother burning alive on the ceiling.

Pyres and pyres of bodies that were once friends and family.

So much fire.

The spiraling thoughts didn't help his stomach. He was on his knees, clutching the toilet for dear life. When he finally stopped, he was almost afraid to breathe in. Sitting up, panting through his mouth, he fought it as long as he could. Until he was on the brink of hyperventilating.

His first breath of air through his nostrils wasn't smoke. Thankfully, he could only smell his recent activities.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he made to flush the toilet. He was already brushing his teeth when Sam came into the bathroom.

Spitting out his mouthful of toothpaste he pointed at Sam through the mirror.

"You aren't allowed to cook. We've been over this. You burn things and my nose is all kinds of sensitive to that shit."

Honestly, Sam's probably was too.

Sam rolled his eyes, the plate was no longer in hand, instead his cell phone.

"Great, I'll remember that. While you were making friends with the throne, your phone was ringing. It's Dr. Mercury."

Dean snatched his phone back, waving at his brother to give him some privacy. 

"Hey Doc, how's everything looking?"

"Mr. Bonham, actually..." he paused, almost unsure of what to say. "I'm going to need you to come in for some additional testing."

"Oh, okay, I can schedule something with-

"Actually, the clinic is available right now for you to come in for a few tests."

Dean's eyebrows rose. His stomach turned again and he had to take a few calming breaths so as not to end up hunched over the toilet again. If they were pushing his case over others, it was probably something bad. Chuck dammit.

He knew it. He fucking knew it.

"Uh, yeah, no problem, I'll...I'll be there in a few minutes."

He was ready to finish this conversation, already hurrying to his room to change when Doctor Mercury spoke up again.

"You should bring your brother as well, I-I think a little support might be nice just in case."

Dean nearly fell down the small set of steps between the bathroom and his room. He was dying. He probably only had a few months, no, days to live. If he wasn't worried a moment ago, he was seconds from a meltdown now.

"O-okay."

"All right, I'll see you shortly Mr. Bonham." The line dropped and Dean was suddenly left standing in the quiet hall, confused and worried, possibly even a little scared. Not that he was going to admit that out loud, much less to his brother. Still, he called out to him as he rushed down the hall once more.

* * *

He was barely sitting in the waiting room for three minutes before Dr. Mercury was rushing out to greet him and Sam. Initially, Sam had been worried out of his freaking mind, chattering almost non-stop the entire ride over. It was like talking to a five year old. Dean would answer one question and Sam would have three more to ask after that.

Sam was so worried that he nearly ran to the examination room, shoving Dean down the hallway after Dr. Mercury.

It was only once he was seated on the examination table and Sam was standing guard beside him that the doctor started.

"Thank you for coming in as quickly as you did. I noticed something in the samples of blood that we drew on your first visit. I recall you telling me you had "bad" luck and should test you for the more...creative or archaic diseases or outlandish disorders."

Dean nodded, urging him to continue.

"Well...it's- I'm not even sure if this is correct, but I just want to take another sample from you to test and then if it comes back with similar results, I'd like to ask you some questions."

This time Sam interjected.

"Will these test results take as long as the others did?"

Dr. Mercury, if anything looked nervous.

"Oh, well, no. They won't take as long. I have to admit, some of those days I spent going over the results with a fine-tooth comb, just to be sure I knew what I was looking at. I-I didn't want to bother you with misinformation. That does the body nothing good."

Before Sam could open his mouth again, Dean quickly jumped in.

"So, what kind of test are we talking about here? Are you going to need another blood sample?"

The doctor shook his head, moving back toward the line of cabinets against the wall. He offered a small cup to Dean, nodding at it with his head.

"A urine sample, actually."

He would kill Sam if he ever told anybody how quickly his face flushed. Still, he took the cup, waiting for the doctor to point out the nearest available restroom. Sam almost started after him, but the look of warning that his older brother sent him was enough to keep him firmly planted in his place. If not, a little put out.

Two shakes and a cup full of pee later, the doctor was asking the boys to wait while he processed Dean's sample.

With a heavy sigh, Dean sat back on the examination table. The paper crinkled underneath him with every shift he made. The room was silent. Sammy wasn't even staring at him, his eyes were stuck on the door, waiting like a sentinel.

Dean tried reading all of the supportive posters in the room and even the informational guides on the walls, but it was somehow making him more anxious. He shifted around again, trying to find comfort among the clinically sanitized and odorless room.

There was a box of gloves, meant for the doctor, by the sink. Dean contemplated stealing a few before he decided against it. Again, the paper crinkled.

It was hard to sit still when his heart was pounding in his chest, working like it would when he ran away from monsters. Dean shook his head. He fought monsters. MONSTERS. He shouldn't be afraid of some flesh eating, possibly heart-damaging disease or illness he somehow contracted.

The table shifted once more and it seems that Sam had hit his limit.

"Would you just sit still?" He hissed.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed and just like the other day, randomly upset by Sam's tone. Another weird thing that had been going on recently. If Sam took a certain tone with him or said anything remotely teasing or goading, Dean was ready to burst into tears.

Thankfully, Dr. Mercury came back before he could do something embarrassing.

The doctor was breathing heavily like he had just ran from the lab to here. He was holding a clipboard in his hand, and Dean and Sam were waiting expectantly. The doctor pulled out his seat, rolling to the middle of the examination room.

"Okay, first I have a few questions, is it all right if I ask them in front of your brother?"

Dean didn't even have to look at his brother to answer.

"Yeah, it's fine. Ask away."

Taking the clipboard, Dr. Mercury cleared his throat. His eyes scanned over the words on the paper he had attached to its clip. Pulling from his pocket a pen, he asked, "Are you in the process of transitioning or undergoing any current sex transformation?"

Dean blinked.

"Uh, I'm sorry-what?"

"Are you," he started again, but Dean didn't let him finish.

"What the hell does that have to do with the results of that test? Did you find out what was wrong with me or not Doc?"

Dr. Mercury set his clipboard down on his lap. His legs were crossed, and his hands were resting gently on top of them when he looked up.

"Of the many tests I've conducted, they all came up with the same conclusion."

Both Dean and Sam leaned forward in anticipation.

"You're pregnant."

Dean barked out a single laugh and then jumped off of the table.

"Yeah, real funny Doc, no seriously. Let me see this shit." He said, reaching out for the doctor's stupid clipboard. Dr. Mercury allowed him to take it, waiting patiently as Dean's eyes roved over the page and all its results.

He read it. And read it again. And again.

It still said the same shit.

Impossible. This was impossible.

Dean pulled away from the results, not fighting as Sam wrenched the clipboard out of his hands to read the results himself. Dean's mind was preoccupied. Remembering in vivid detail his interaction with God and Amara.

"You gave me what I needed most..." She had said.

"I wanna do the same, for you."

The examination room suddenly tilted and Dean's vision went black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up in the clinic with a slew of questions.

By the time Dean comes back around, Sam and the doctor have already lifted him onto the examination table and were going over the results.

Dean was conscious, that much he knew. He could feel his entire body aching, so he had to be awake. He didn't open his eyes though, intent to just lie here in denial for a few more minutes.

But Sam and his stupid questions always seemed to ruin everything.

"So these results are sound, I get that, but my question is since Dean had his... _transformation,_ how would the baby, uh, get out?"

Dr. Mercury was more than happy to answer all of Sam's questions, especially after answering the biggest one that the doctor, himself, had. How had a man gotten pregnant? Easy, he had the right parts...ish.

Dean managed not to snort out a laugh. He had a feeling that telling the doctor that God's sister knocked him up wasn't a better answer.

And since when had he transformed?!

He forced his eyes open then, ready to correct whatever mess his brother had created. Both the doctor and his brother turned to look at him, the doctor looked pleased, and his brother relieved.

"Dean, hey, take it easy man." Sam said as Dean tried sitting up.

He waved off Sam's concerns, if something really was wrong with him, there was a doctor a foot away from him.

His head hurt. The mother of all migraines was creeping up his skull, settling amongst his worried thoughts. It was as unnerving as it was annoying. Rubbing at the back of his head, Dr. Mercury stood now beside him.

Gently pulling his hand away, the doctor felt around the surface of his head, stopping only to shine a light directly into each of his eyes.

Clicking it off, he tucked it into his pocket and straightened his stance.

"You don't have a concussion, you may have some tenderness from the fall, I can prescribe you some Tylenol if need be. Thankfully there was nothing behind you when you fainted-

"I did not faint." Dean interjected, but the doctor and his brother seemed unable to hear him.

Continuing as if Dean had never spoken, Dr. Mercury repeated himself.

"No concussion, just a little surprise. Though, now your symptoms are easily definable, which I can explain them all to you, if you would like."

Dean shook his head in disagreement. He knew what they meant. He'd seen enough movies to know what most pregnant women complained about. Though, if what he's experiencing is what they go through, they have a right to complain.

"Great, so now onto the bigger question. There are alternative methods to pregnancy if this is not something you wish to...pursue." The doctor said. He looked like he was trying to refrain from showing his opinion on the matter, but he was doing a poor job of it.

Not that it mattered. It was Dean's body. That guy and his degree could go fuck himself.

But he was right. If Dean didn't want this thing growing inside of him, he just needed to make another appointment...and it would be done.

No bun in the oven. No pit in the avocado. No joey in the pouch...

He ran out of metaphors by then, but the meaning behind them each still stood. He sat there for a moment, ignoring the furrow in Sam's brow and the blatant interest in the doctor's. This was rural Kansas, this was probably the first time he'd ever met a transgendered person (even though Dean wasn't really, this is how they were explaining this phenomenon, and if he were to keep this baby, it would have to remain that way until the end of his pregnancy).

His pregnancy.

How odd was it that his brain had already normalized the thought. Of course he was pregnant. He was at a certain age where most people started their families. It was just time for him to start his.

That was the big hang up though.

Did he want to start a family?

If anything, his head began to hurt more.

 _If_ he did, and that was a BIG "if," that would mean he would have to quit hunting. There was no way in hell he would drag a kid around on hunts like his father had done.

But was he ready to retire?

Sure, the world had slowed down and they had just stepped off of the precipice when Amara and Chuck made up, but the world was always on the brink. It always needed help.

And he always seemed to be a part of putting it back together.

He sighed. Rubbing a hand down his face, he had to think about it. How _tired_ he was. Some days after hunts he couldn't even get out of bed. Too many things haunted him in his life to warrant a good night's rest.

And even if he did keep the kid, he wouldn't exactly be starting a family. It was just him.

Sure, Sammy would help, but he wasn't Dean's partner. (Even though he nagged like any wife would.)

Dean would be a single parent and that was....that was scary to think about. He did it with Sam when he was a kid and it had seemed impossible. He was a grown man so he could do probably do it, and maybe be okay at it. At least, better at it than when he did it as a child.

Shit, was he really considering this?

"Mr. Bonham?"

Dean blinked, pulled out of his daze and looked up at the doctor.

"Uh, can I get a few days to think about all of this? It's...it's a lot."

Before Dean had even finished speaking the doctor was nodding. Standing, he made toward the door leaving Sam and Dean alone together.

Awkward.

Sam cleared his throat, sheepish, but he looked supportive, so Dean wasn't going to yell at him for coming with him. He probably would have handled this a lot worse had Sammy not been there.

"So..." Sam started, obviously filled with questions.

"We'll talk about it at home. I know who did this, and it isn't exactly something we can talk to the doctor about."

Sam nodded, lips already pinched together in concern, but his eyes were filled with acceptance.

When the doctor returned, he was holding a number of pamphlets in hand. Chuck only knew what they all said, but Sammy, the little shit, would undoubtedly read them all later. So when the doctor handed them over, Dean was quick to pass them off to his brother.

"Thanks doc, I'll give you a call back when we decide, uh, what to do."

* * *

Sam was honestly impressing Dean with how well he's managed to keep his mouth shut. He was quiet leaving the clinic, getting into the impala, and even on the drive back to the bunker. Though, Dean _had_ left an ambiguous meaning about the situation, so Sam was probably waiting until they got behind closed doors.

Thick closed doors.

And underground.

And Dean was honestly thankful for that. He needed the time it took getting home and down the stairs to fully process his words. Though, by the time they are sitting at the kitchen table, Dean has already tried to grab a beer before he remembered _why_ he couldn't drink and sat back down with a bag of pretzels instead.

Munching quietly, Dean realized he had no clue what to say, so he did the next best thing. He opened his mouth and let out whatever the fuck jumbled mess was rattling around his brain.

Regrettably, what came out wasn't that great either.

"Amara knocked me up."

Sam sat there, his eyebrows raised nearly into his hairline (which isn't that impressive, but still).

Clearing his throat, his little sasquatch of a brother leaned forward. Opening his mouth, Sam tried to speak, but nothing came out. When he closed his mouth, Dean heard his teeth click.

Getting out of his seat, Sam made his way to the fridge and pulled out the beer Dean himself nearly drank a moment ago. Now it was Dean's turn to raise a brow at his brother.

Sam didn't stop until he had downed half of his drink, pulling in a deep breath when he finished. Still standing in the open fridge, Sam looked back over at him, disbelief and something like concern on his face.

"Did she...did she say _why_ _?_ "

Dean stopped the next handful of pretzels from being devoured. He... _knew_ , kind of, but he was still trying to figure out Amara's reasoning. Sure, she brought mom back, THAT was what he needed most, not...not a _kid_.

Still, Dean made himself say the words that Amara had spoken before she and God left.

Hopefully Sam could help him piece together what the fuck she meant by it.

"She thanked me for, well I guess giving her 'what she needed most' and then said she wanted to do the same for me. You know as well as I do what that meant. She brought back mom and I thought that was it. I didn't think that-that I'd be ballooning up with a baby I didn't know about. This isn't "I didn't know I was pregnant," this is real life. And in a million years I didn't think _this_ is one of the things I'd have to figure out in our battle with the supernatural. Are you shitting me? A kid? Oh god-

Dean was hyperventilating now and Sam rushed to his side.

Taking the bag of pretzels out of Dean's hands, Sam made Dean lean over his knees. Coaching his breathing and gently rubbing his back. 

"Hey, we're okay, it's just me and you. We can do this, honestly, if this is something you don't want. Just say the word and I'll have this taken care of."

Dean slowed his breathing, calm enough to know that a 'but' was waiting around the corner. Sam didn't disappoint.

"But," he said, still rubbing circle's into Dean's back. "If this is something that you **do** want, Dean, you aren't alone."

Dean didn't look up, the tears were already forming in his eyes and he didn't want Sammy to see them. Damn hormones. He choked on a small laugh and shook his head.

He wanted this.

He wanted to do this.

Shit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys receive a call from Cas.

If it is possible, he forgot about it.

It being, of course, the growing thing hitching a ride in his gut.

Yes, a baby. He knows what it's called, he just...can't call it that...yet. He's warmed up to the idea of keeping the little bastard, but with the random bouts of panic he gets when reminded that he's a pregnant man, he's becoming more wary.

Not to the point where he would want to do something to _stop_ the thing from developing, but it's a stressful situation. Give him a break.

But he did, for the briefest of periods, forget that he was pregnant.

That is, until he was thrown off stage.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to stop God and Amara by whatever means necessary and everything else was supposed to go back to normal. 

Sam and Cas were going to continue hunting (if Dean was there or not) and the world would keep turning.

Except, when he came back from the awkward cosmic family intervention, Cas wasn't there.

Dean had specifically told Cas to watch out for Sammy, not ditch him as soon as he left the picture.

Sam told him, days after crisis had been averted, that Cas left on some important mission with the other angels. Admittedly, Dean hadn't questioned it at the time, probably because he was busy with his previously dead, but now very much alive, mother.

Though, after visiting Doctor Mercury, they had settled into a menial routine. It consisted of, mainly Sam, tiptoeing around the bunker. Dean was still trying to adjust to his decision, whether or not it would be permanent, and Sammy was trying to respect that. Dean needed time, and he shouldn't jump at an answer before he was COMPLETELY sure.

It wasn't like they could put the baby that God's own sister had given Dean in foster care. Dean had a feeling that would get him banned from the big place upstairs.

They had dropped everything when Castiel called. 

He barely needed to say anything before Sam and Dean were rushing toward the impala, but what he had said had them running like the world was on the brink again.

Lucifer wasn't in the cage.

* * *

It was odd, working alongside a demon. Though, it wasn't something the Winchester's hadn't done before, but for Castiel, Crowley was just another thorn in his side.

Except now he was being a pain in his ass. 

They had been following the trail of a man, supposedly a famous rockstar, but the trail was running cold. He was wary about contacting Sam and Dean, this was his problem, he had lucifer, right in his hands. And then after the fight with Amara...he lost him.

It was his responsibility to put him back where he belonged and if Crowley wanted to help, fine. 

It seemed for the briefest of moments that he was weaker without Nick as a vessel. But everything changed when the fans left the room.

Sam had been holding the doors open, fighting Lucifer like he did when they were together in the cage. Cas made an attempt and managed to distract him long enough for Dean to clasp the handcuff around his wrist. He was hopeful and confident for the briefest of seconds.

And then he went flying.

He landed roughly, rolling to a stop, and Sam rushed to his side. They could only look up in fear as Lucifer dropped the handcuffs. Dean didn't move when Castiel dropped to his knees.

Sam was talking, getting Lucifer to drag on, always about his life.

They both saw it, but they didn't want to hope too soon.

His vessel was crashing, his skin was blackening, and he was rambling.

"Don't worry, onward-" Lucifer said, face lifting toward the ceiling, "and upward."

His essence made for a quick escape and his vessel dropped lifelessly to the ground.

Dean breathed out through his nostrils, trying to maintain the façade of a hunter, but when Lucifer's vessel began decaying before their eyes, he had to leave the room. Sam was right behind him when he made it outside, panting heavily and holding onto his side.

"Dean? What is it, c'mon man you gotta talk to me." Sam pleaded. He was hovering over his brother, following after him as Dean paced.

He was trying to calm down, but all he could think about was the baby.

He fucked up. He shouldn't have come on this stupid hunt.

They hadn't even told Cas.

Shit.

Shitshitshit.

"Call-call the doc." Dean spoke, uncaring of the trembling in his tone.

He wasn't even this scared when he was literally face-to-face with the devil.

This was so much bigger.

This was his baby.

Any doubts he had on whether or not he wanted to keep the baby vanished. He wanted his baby. More importantly, he wanted his baby to be okay.

Sam was already punching in the clinic's number, pulling Dean into a one armed hug as he did so. Normally, Dean would have called his brother a bitch and pulled away before the hug could last any longer than a few seconds, but this time he didn't care.

He soaked up his brother's concern and clutched onto his back just as tightly.

When they broke apart, slowly making their way back to the impala, a haggard looking Crowley and weary Castiel were waiting for them. This had been a shitshow. 

They had the baby already figured out, ready to head back to Kansas as soon as possible. All that was left was Lucifer, and he was up in the wind. Dean wanted to be optimistic about at least one thing that had come from this, but Sam didn't see it the same.

Dean knew this didn't mean anything good, but he _had_ to believe something was worth endangering his baby.

But sitting in the passenger seat, covered with his leather jacket and leaning heavily against the window, he knew nothing was worth that. He would never do something like this ever again.

He was done.

He was done hunting and he was never going back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's emergency appointment and first sonogram.

It took almost two days to get home. His side had a large bruise on it, but from Sam's medical (not licensed, obviously) point of view, _Dean_ was okay. However, neither of them knew how the baby was doing.

Dean's bruise was one that they usually walked away with on hunts. Something that needed to be iced but not taken seriously. It didn't mean life or death, at least...not for them.

They didn't even stop at the bunker when they crossed into Kansas, they immediately drove to the clinic.

Mentally, his brother seemed like he was okay. Shaken up and obviously worried, but overall okay. That had been the first 15 hours of their trip back home. In the last two, however, Dean was steadily becoming more and more freaked out.

His panic had gotten to the point that Sam had scrambled for one of their brown convenience store bags and made Dean breathe into it.

He had calmed down to a simple fidget. It was worrisome, but certainly better than the hyperventilating.

Sam probably broke about thirty different laws getting to the clinic, but that wasn't important. What was important was pulling up, tires squealing, and lurching to a stop. Dean was out of the car before it came to a complete stop.

Sam threw the impala into 'park' and snatched the keys from the ignition. If this had been any other time, Dean would probably yell at him for "mistreating" his baby. Though, right now they had a whole other baby to worry about.

Sam could probably key the side of the car and Dean wouldn't care.

Now _that_ was scary.

Ambling after his brother, Sam made it to the clinic's waiting room to find Dean already at the front desk, checking in.

Everything slowed to a snail's pace then. The remaining adrenaline from fighting Lucifer and from driving like madmen had worn off. They did it. They got here in one piece and they could finally figure out how Dean was doing.

Sam helped himself to one of the waiting room chairs and plopped down onto it. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he leaned back.

The waiting room was silent, another person was sitting in the waiting area, lost to the screen in their hand. Thinking to his own phone, he had the briefest desire to call his mother. Surely she would want to be here for this, to see how Dean was doing.

But if Sam knew his brother, he was willing to bet that Dean hadn't told _anyone_ about the baby. Their mom included.

When Dean finally pulled himself away from the desk, he sat down heavily in the seat across from Sam. He was scribbling notes down onto the clipboard the nurse had handed him. Stretching out, Sam lightly kicked Dean's foot to grab his attention.

As his leg swayed with the action, Dean looked up, a scowl written on his face and a threat on his tongue. Before he could say anything, Sam spoke.

"Have you...told mom?"

Dean swallowed. The pen in his hand froze mid stroke. 

Logically, he knew his mom was going to find out. He had decided after the accident that he was going to keep the baby. It wasn't like he could just hide his growing belly the next time his mother came to the bunker. She was eventually going to notice.

He also had failed to mention anything to Cas. As soon as they had the chance, they had left L.A. without looking back.

He didn't get the chance to answer, but his reaction was enough for Sam to understand.

They both looked up when Dean's alias was called. 

Dr. Mercury was standing by the door leading to the examination rooms, he had a grim look about himself and Dean hurried to pass off the clipboard to the nurse. He hadn't finished, but he didn't care.

Sam was right behind him when Dr. Mercury led them toward one of the empty rooms. He didn't say anything when he entered the room, his feet carried him over to the sink and he dutifully washed his hands.

Dean was standing, waiting with his hands fisted.

When the doctor finally turned around to face them, he was looking over the notes Dean had written onto the check-in sheet.

It wasn't until Sam nudged Dean toward the table that Dean sat down. 

"So, from your call you sounded pretty worried, I'm going to start by asking your brother to step outside of the room for a moment while I examine the impacted area." Sam looked like he was going to protest, but the look on Dean's face stopped any words coming out of his mouth.

Dean's face was flushed. Sam had already seen the bruise and it extended from Dean's hip to the start of his ribs. The doctor was probably going to ask him to undress and Dean probably wanted some privacy to do so.

With a firm nod, he let himself out of the room, standing with his back pressed against the door as soon as it shut.

* * *

The doctor's hands were cold, gently probing the growing bruise against Dean's side. It wasn't the most severe injury he's walked away from a hunt with, but it was the worst.

Nothing had ever made him this afraid, not even being stricken with the ghost sickness had been this frightening.

And he had literally been afraid of everything then. Barely a moment's rest between bouts of panic and fear.

Though, now was kind of similar. He wouldn't be able to calm down until he knew everything was alright with the baby. He would just continue to panic the longer the doctor took.

Sam had returned, the doctor leaving to get an ultrasound machine, and he was waiting stoically by his brother's side. If Dean wasn't so worried about his possible child, he would have noticed Sam was doing a shit job at pretending to be strong.

He was almost as worried as Dean was. He wasn't going to say it, but he wanted to sit right on that examination table with him. He's certain they both wouldn't fit, but he doesn't think Dean would mind right now.

A sound from the hallway pulled them both out of their thoughts. The doctor knocked on the door and at Sam's voice, he rolled in a large screen with multiple accessories and a small keypad.

He gave Dean a small smile before moving the ultrasound machine towards the wall. As he was setting everything up, he spoke.

"Now we have to use the transducer, even though your pregnancy is fairly early. A penetrative wand would provide a clearer image, but with this...situation...we'll make do."

By the time the machine was set up, he was already adjusting the examination table. When Dean was able to sit comfortably Doctor Mercury instructed Dean to pull up his shirt.

The gel wasn't as cold as Dean was expecting but he couldn't be sure, he wasn't really paying any attention to himself now. Sam was right at his side, hand hovering over his brother's. He knew that Dean would probably call him a bitch or start compairing them to an expectant couple, but Sam wanted his brother to know that he was there.

When the doctor gently pushed the transducer against his lower abdomen, he slid it across Dean's stomach. He was searching for something, that much was obvious, but what for, Dean had no idea.

The screen to the ultrasound machine was black with all these strange white lines framing a mass.

Dean stopped breathing.

He was sure his heart stopped too, but suddenly a rapid beating filled up the room and he looked to the doctor in question. 

At the smile on his face, Dean finally exhaled. Dropping back against the table he released a light laugh.

With his eyes closed, he didn't see his brother reaching out for him, but he did feel his hand closing around his. 

Dean looked up, a wet smile on his face and was met with a similar expression.

"God, I am not your wife." He said with a watery laugh that Sam echoed.

Turning to look back at the screen, Sam followed the doctors mouse icon, pointing out the mass that was going to be his niece or nephew. 

"Shut up De, just keep looking at the peanut in your stomach and pretend like you aren't about to cry."

Dean punched Sam with his free hand, almost dislodging the doctor's hard work.

"You shut up, at least I have the hormone excuse, you're just a bitch."

Doctor Mercury couldn't keep the smile from his face as he managed the baby's first picture. 

The brothers had quieted long enough for the doctor to give them the obvious news. 

"You're brother is on the right track except, your baby is about the size of a blueberry, not a peanut. Most importantly, from what I can see, everything looks great. The fall had no effect on your little berry."

Dean sighed again in relief finally releasing his brother's hand as the doctor printed out the first image. 

The doctor was wiping away the gel from Dean's stomach while he continued. 

"It is important that you get some rest for the next few days. You need to use a cold compress for your bruising and stay away from anymore stages."

Dean held the picture in his hands, half listening to the doctor and half memorizing the image before him.

Thankfully, Sam would take more of all of this. Accepting the piece of paper with prenatal vitamins and fancy baby-growing-goodness as Dean hopped off the table, Sam was mentally taking notes.

If Dean was serious about keeping the baby, and the way he was looking at the picture, he wanted to, they were going to have to do a lot of catching up.

Like. A LOT.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Pregnant-ness ensues*

They were in the store, trying to stock up on anything they could possibly think of right now. Sam had written down a list of all the healthy food crap that Dean was going to need to start eating and he didn't like half of the shit on there.

They were in the grocery section of the store and Sam was milling about the vegetables, checking over his dumb list. Dean had stopped walking, his attention suddenly caught by an array of blueberries.

He couldn't help but pick up a package, trying to inspect it further. They looked so...blue, obviously, but seriously these little guys were small.

And he basically had one of these in his stomach right now.

His eyes began to fill with moisture and just when he began to seriously worry that he was about to start crying over fruit, Sam walked up behind him.

"Oh, hey, good idea, blueberries have a high count of vitamin C." He said, taking the package right out of Dean's hands and setting it in the cart.

Dean blinked, suddenly bewildered. He was quick to snatch the package out of the cart, holding it close to his chest.

"Are you crazy?!" He whisper-yelled at him. Sam's eyebrows were raised and a curious smile was creeping up on his lips.

"We can't eat blueberries, end of story. I don't care about strawberries, boysenberries, blackberries or raspberries. But I ain't eating the thing that the doctor compared my kid too."

Sam was smiling now, trying to hide it under a look of understanding. 

"Alright, dually noted. No blueberries."

"And get some apples, I want to make pie."

* * *

They had parted ways in the store, Sam off to look for clothes that Dean would inevitably need, and Dean found himself walking to the baby section.

Sam told him to come in here for one thing and one thing only. _What to Expect When You're Expecting._ He said it was like a case, and on any case, they had to do research.

But that doesn't mean he didn't get distracted on hunts. Which is why it was perfectly fine that he wasn't looking for the book.

He was staring at the baby clothes.

God. There were so. Many. Clothes.

How could something so small require so many clothes? Half of the time they were naked. Right?

One of the onesies pulled him in, he couldn't help but reach out and touch it.

It was green and came with little mittens that Dean nearly hugged. It was for newborns. He read somewhere that they come out with, essentially, claws, and they could scratch themselves.

He was already pulling it off the rack, holding it close to his chest. Oh yeah. There was no way he wasn't coming home with this.

He was suddenly drawn to the tiny shoes that babies didn't need because they couldn't walk yet. He didn't care because they were so tiny and he wanted them all.

Dean was so caught up in baby paraphernalia that he almost didn't hear his phone ringing.

Absently, he reached into his pocket, not even looking at the caller ID because it was probably Sam.

Needless to say, when a gravely voice came over the line instead his brother, his baby bubble was popped.

"Dean?" Castiel said, waiting for a response.

Dean's mouth opened and closed but nothing came out.

"Dean are you alright? I was calling because you left Los Angeles quickly and I was worried that your fall might have been more severe than we originally thought."

Finally, his mouth opened and those things called _words_ came right out, unchecked with it.

"No, the baby and I are fine."

There was silence on the other end of the line. When his brain finally caught up with his mouth, he dropped the onesie and three pairs of useless shoes.

"Baby? What baby? Dean what are you-

"Uhhh...IgottagoCasbye." He rushed out, ending the call quicker than he left L.A.

He turned on his heel then, making toward where he last saw his brother. He only got so far before he remembered the onesie and quickly turned back around. He snatched it up from the ground, leaving behind the useless, adorable little shoes, and was making his way back when he remembered why he went in this area of the store to begin with.

Stomping over to the small shelf dedicated to baby books, he didn't even check the book he grabbed, just grabbed the first one within reach. All he knew, or cared about at least, was it had something to do with babies.

When he found Sam he was on the brink of a full blown panic attack. Carelessly dropping the things in the cart and ignoring Sam's warning about crushing the food, Dean stuttered.

"Cas-he knows. He called me when I was looking at the baby clothes, thought he was you, and I just blurt out stuff about the baby. I didn't even think about it."

If the words he practically puked out didn't make sense to Sam, he didn't show it. He was staring intently at Dean's face, like he could slow the words down with his mind if he stared long enough.

Eventually, he blinked. Setting down the two articles of clothing he was looking at onto the cart, he reached up and grabbed Dean by the shoulders. Dean looked at each of Sam's hands before he looked up at his face.

"Hey, deep breath. We're okay. The baby is fine and Cas is our friend. It isn't like he wasn't going to find out eventually. Even if it was an accident, this is good."

Dean was nodding along to Sam's words, caught like a fish to a hook, and was able to slow his breathing to match Sam's. With one last heave of air, he shook his brother's giagantor hands off of him, rubbing a dismissive hand down his face.

Sam was right, everything was fine and they were okay. Cas probably thought he was talking about his car.

With that in mind Dean went to look over Sam's picks, putting back what he absolutely hated, and grabbing more sweatpants than absolutely necessary.

* * *

It wasn't until three days later that Dean remembered his slip up. He was alone in the bunker, for once Sammy had finally gotten off of his back with his mother henning.

He was eating the dumb carrots Sam had insisted upon, except he was dipping them in barbeque sauce.

If this were any other time, he'd probably be disgusted with himself, but right now, he couldn't care less. If he was going to eat stupid rabbit food, he was going to do it with some flavor.

He was sitting at the map table, leafing through one of the _many_ baby books Sam had picked up from the secondhand store. In the book he was currently reading, there was quite the bit of information about physical sensations. He was sucked into the book so deep he made a decent dent in the bag of carrots.

He was halfway through the chapter when he heard the door to the bunker churn open.

His back was to the stairs but he knew Sam had forgotten his wallet. Dean was staring at right now.

"You forget something?" He asked, setting his carrots aside to rub his sticky fingers all over Sammy's wallet. Sam didn't answer as he began his descent down the stairs. He was halfway down when he spoke.

"Uh, no. It does not appear that I have misplaced any of my personal artifacts."

Dean whipped around in his seat so fast he worried he gave himself whiplash. There, standing in all his holy tax accountant glory, was Castiel.

"Cas- hey buddy, what are you doing here?" Dean said, quickly closing all of the baby books he had spread out before him. Cas was walking down the rest of the stairs and Dean was scrambling to hide everything. 

Moving too quickly he knocked over a pile of research studies that Sam had printed off, with his sonogram picture on top.

Like a gentle breeze, it glided toward the stairs, poetically stopping at Castiel's feet.

Dean was half out of his seat, ready to tackle Cas to the ground. But it was too late. Castiel bent down to grab the picture, staring at it intently like he did whenever he was trying to read someone's thoughts. 

He looked up at Dean with his curious head tilt and suddenly Dean couldn't hold in his carrots anymore.

Rushing to the kitchen sink, Dean threw up everything in his stomach and more. His kidneys were probably in there. His throat was burning and his eyes were watering. The sink started running in the same time that Dean felt a hand on his back.

When Dean could finally swallow without dry heaving, Castiel was already handing him a wet napkin to wipe his face with.

Spitting one last time into the sink, Dean stood up. He pulled away to get a good look at Cas' face, trying to gauge his expression. But like always, Cas looked indifferent, curious, but mainly indifferent. 

Dean let out a small laugh. If his slip up hadn't been enough, the sonogram and the morning (every minute, really) sickness would. 

"So, what brings you here?"

He was half tempted to make a run for his room, but as if he was reading his thoughts, Castiel took a step back, blocking his exit.

His hands were folded over his chest, his stupid trench coat was rumpled in a manner that suggested Cas hadn't done much changing. Honestly, he was probably still wearing the clothes that he had worn during their hunt for Lucifer.

"I came here because you left an interesting message unanswered during our call and I was concerned. Which, seeing your physical state right now, I can see I was right to worry."

Dean laughed weakly, trying to think of a reason other than the obvious, how to explain everything. Before he could, however, Cas beat him to the chase.

"Dean are you...with child?" The angel was looking at Dean's stomach, his powers weren't what they used to be, but he could probably see exactly what was going on in his gut. That didn't stop Dean from wrapping his arms loosely around his waist, in an attempt to cover himself.

He wasn't showing by any means. He was barely pushing the two month marker. But he did look like he had a buildup of gas. It was small, but Dean knew his body, and he wasn't always this...bloated.

But he had a feeling Castiel wasn't looking at that. His shirt was loose enough not to show anything. Cas was an angel, he could probably see the baby's soul or shine or whatever.

It was like Cas couldn't hold himself back anymore. He was moving, taking the space that separated them, and reaching out to touch Dean's stomach. Dean was frozen in shock when he felt Castiel's hands on him. Something deep and hedonistic was churning low in his gut and he had to clear his throat to get Castiel's attention.

That was another thing.

Those damn hormones were _really_ starting to mess with him. First it was the crying and the mood swings, and now it was like his sex drive just went through the roof. He probably shouldn't be getting excited around his best friend, of all people, especially because he was 1. a man. and 2. an angel of the lord.

When Cas finally pulled away, he was looking up at Dean with an odd type of adoration. It was a little unnerving, being the sole receiver of an angel's gaze usually was, but now it was like he had a sign taped to his forehead.

"What-how did this happen?" He asked, actively trying to keep his hands to himself.

Dean couldn't help but smirk. "Cas, we've talked about the birds and the bees. Do we really gotta go over how babies are made?" At Castiel's frown, Dean coughed.

"I am aware of how impregnation works Dean, what I don't understand is how you became impregnated."

Dean squirmed uncomfortably under Castiel's questioning stare, also his use of "impregnation," that was just weird. Before Dean could explain that, Castiel continued.

"I rebuilt you, I know precisely what reproductive parts you did and did not have when you were reborn."

Reaching up, Dean covered Castiel's mouth before he could keep speaking.

"Hey, I was getting to that, will you just shut up for a second?"

Cas was squinting at him, his lips were warm against Dean's palm and Dean pulled away like he was burned.

Clearing his throat again, he spoke.

"It was Amara."

Cas' eyebrows shot up nearly into his hairline. "I thought she only brought your mother back."

The way he says _only_ has Dean rolling his eyes. Like everyone could just bring back a formerly dead person without struggle.

"She did, but she did this too." He paused, rubbing a hand down his stomach subconsciously. Castiel tracked the motion, his eyes following wordlessly. "She said...she said she wanted to give me what I needed."

Dean had been thinking about this recently, especially since he decided to keep the kid. He practically forced himself to say it.

"I think she wanted to give me a family."

He was flushed, embarrassed already, but trying to remain calm. He wasn't doing so good of a job, but when Castiel reached out to him again, Dean didn't move away.

Like he said, physical sensations and shit. He was becoming tactile and damn if that didn't look clingy.

Cas' hand caught his chin, making Dean look up from the ground. They were closer together than they had been before and still, Dean wanted to be closer.

"It's nothing to be ashamed about Dean. If anyone deserves a family, it's you."

And there were the waterworks right on time. Castiel looked instantly concerned, both hands coming up to pull Dean into an embrace. Dean couldn't help but lean into it, laughing as he went. The old Dean Winchester would be appalled right now. Who was he even right now?

"Cas, I'm fine, it's just these damn hormones. I didn't think they would be this bad, but," he said, pulling away. "I straight up almost cried over blueberries the other day. There is literally nothing to stop them, they just happen whenever the hell they want to."

Cas was leading him past the map room, already heading into the living room, setting Dean down on the couch, helping himself to the space next to him.

"And I'm tired all the time. Like before you got here, I was reading those damn pregnancy books and if I hadn't been shoveling carrots down like candy, I probably would have fallen asleep. Sam found me yesterday passed out in the laundry room. I was just folding friggen laundry."

Castiel looked sympathetic, it was endearing and so unlike Sam's stupid empathy face.

Just the mention of sleep made Dean tired. But, ralphing up his guts and doing an hour of research would do that. He barely registered Cas pulling him to rest against his side, but Dean was too out of it to care. Cas was warm and he smelled like woodsy goodness. The angel's arms came around him without provocation. A smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth as Dean cuddled into his chest.

He had never seen Dean this...tender.

It was nice.

Pregnancy suit him very well.

As Castiel's thoughts were running away from him, he heard the bunker door open once more. Sam's voice called out to Dean as footsteps lightly tapped on the stairs.

"In here!" Castiel called, trying to be quiet, and allow Dean the comforts of sleep. 

Sam entered the living room not long after he spoke, obviously taken back by Castiel's voice instead of his brother's. The scene he walked into was not one he expected. Dean was cuddling into Castiel's chest, his legs were curled up close, protecting his stomach even in his sleep. Sam couldn't help but smile.

He took one look at Castiel's face, and he saw something behind the angel's gaze that he didn't know what to make of.

"He told you?" Sam whispered. Cas didn't look away from Dean when he nodded his head.

Sam smiled again, absently thumbing away the weird sticky film from his wallet.

"You okay with that?"

Cas finally pulled away from Dean, looking at Sam with such a look of confusion that Sam was briefly puzzled. "Of course I'm okay with this, and even if I wasn't, it's not like Dean ever listens to me."

At the mention of his name, Dean nuzzled his head further in the heat of Castiel's chest. The sight nearly set him aflame, but Castiel returned Sam's stare.

"He deserves to be happy."

Looking down at his brother, he couldn't deny just how right the angel was. They had been through hell and Dean deserved peace. They all did. Maybe a baby was just what they needed.

Perhaps it was time that they all retired.

Sam moved over to the other end of the couch, lifting his brother's feet into his lap as he sat down.

The store could wait a little longer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel moves in?

It had only been a few days since the nap on the couch with Castiel, but the angel hasn't left since.

He hovers, but not in the same way that Sam does. Sam treats Dean like he's made out of glass and literally anything has the ability to hurt him.

But Cas? Cas is just... _there._

It should probably be annoying, how often the angel is around, but it isn't. He stays close enough that if Dean needs him, he's right there. And with how emotional and tactile and downright clingy he's been, Dean isn't complaining.

He should be though, dammit. He was a man and this was...this was...

What the fuck was it?

Strange?

Unnatural?

Confusing, that's what it felt like almost every day. He was a pregnant _man_ and there were no other ways to compare himself. He was a man and was held by society's forced ideals. Some of which he himself personalized into his own identity.

But what was kicking thoss beliefs right in the ass was that most men couldn't have babies. And that's when things got confusing.

Most mornings when he woke up and was gliding on the tendrils of sleep, he did forget. It was almost like nothing had happened because he went about his ordinary day.

He'd wake up, get dressed or put on his robe, he'd start making breakfast for everyone and then he'd go toward the coffee machine.

The first thing he does when he wakes up is think about coffee, but Sam and the dumb doctor said he needed to cut back on his caffeine intake.

So he decides against making a cup.

If he wanted bacon, they had to get the stupid turkey kind and use those stupid pans that collect the grease.

So he eats the stupid healthy crap.

But it reminds him every morning that he's not the same. He's not the same _man_ he was before because he's seriously toeing the androgynous line. And he's okay with it.

He'll admit, as much as it annoys the crap out of him, all of these damn stipulations, there is a moment in the day when he just stops. Literally, in the middle of whatever he's doing, he pauses.

Yesterday it had been while he was making his bed, today it had been while he was watching t.v. He just couldn't help but stop and think.

His hand would find its ways to his stomach and he'd look down and wonder.

How could he have possibly gotten something as big as this for being as simple as he was? He wasn't anybody special. Tons of women and couples wanted to have kids and they couldn't for whatever reason. And here he was, doing the thing he never thought, never even could have imagined, he wanted.

He was having a baby.

And as fucked up or unnatural as it felt sometimes, he couldn't help how _right_ it felt too.

He went through hell and more for this, he deserved to have this just as much as the next person. He did his share.

He was enough.

And that was confusing, but he didn't care. If he acted softer it's because he wanted to. If he held on to hugs longer than he would have before, it's because he wanted to.

He was in the kitchen chopping apples for pie when he couldn't help but stop again.

It was so overwhelming that he nearly burst. Looking down at his hands, covered in cinnamon and sticky apple juice, he realized if he wanted to touch his stomach, he was going to get everything dirty.

Sure, he could wash his hands or reach across the counter for the dish towel, but that meant moving and breaking this bubble. His happy baby bubble.

And he didn't want to do that yet.

The angel had been sitting at the table, absently reading, when he felt Dean's rising need. He moved without thought, careful to tread around Dean's dazed and dreaming figure. He was behind him then, a hand reaching out subconsciously for Dean's side.

The angel's hand was slow as it came to rest on his hip. If he had to breathe in and out like humans, he'd be holding his breath in right now.

Dean didn't protest, frozen in that place he went to now and again since this discovery. So Castiel took that as a sign to move his hand further around his waist.

Caressing Dean's side until he came to a stop at his lower abdomen. Right where his "mini fruitcake" was as Dean so eloquently named.

He didn't realize how the rest of his body gravitated toward the hunter's back. Nearly pressing his chest up against him, Castiel leaned his head toward, an overwhelming desire filled him to close the space between them.

Dean was breathing heavily, his head turned ever so slightly in the angel's direction. If he leaned in, he and Castiel might just touch.

A door closed in the distance, effectively bursting their bubble and righting Dean's stance until he and Castiel separated. 

The angel took a step back as well, dazed with that pungent need, unaware of what came over him.

Sam entered the kitchen not a second later, but by that point Dean had already moved to the farthest part of the kitchen island, rolling out his dough in silence.

Castiel was leaning back against the counter, his hands holding him upright as he felt a tingling in his palm. Right where he had touched Dean.

Right where he had felt the baby.

There was something there, in that bundle of life resting in the body of his best friend. Something there that Castiel dared to call familiar.

And not because of Dean.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean continues the wonderful journey that is the first trimester of pregnancy. He isn't a fan.

He was going to kill Sam.

Contorted now in a position with his legs spread and his ass practically mooning the ceiling, Dean was going to kill his brother.

 _Try yoga_ he said, _it'll be good for the baby, your body needs the exercise_. 

Stupid hippie.

He was seconds away from un-pretzeling himself and punching his giagantor brother in the neck. He may have been in the early weeks of his pregnancy, but there was now a considerable little bump under his shirt.

Dean's almost positive that having his knees this close to his stomach _isn't_ good for the baby. The bump was small, no bigger than a handful, but it was still evidence that Dean definitely had something in there that wasn't gas or food.

It was crazy.

But also, it was a little bit great.

Sure, he still ralphed his guts out sometimes, but they had managed to keep him away from the big triggers.

Giving up with his stupid exercises, Dean let go of the hold he had on his feet. The stupid pose shouldn't be called 'happy baby' Dean was nowhere near happy. And he wasn't a baby.

When his legs dropped to the ground in a huff, Sam looked over at him. His Zen was probably affected by Dean's negativity or some shit. But when Dean looked over at his brother, the usual bitch face wasn't there.

It took a second to realize it, but Sammy wasn't even looking at his face. He was looking at his stomach.

Un-contorting himself, Sam sat up, the makings of a smirk on his face.

"You're starting to look a little bigger."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed together as he sat himself upright, folding his arms across his chest.

"You're starting to look bigger y'stupid sasquatch."

And there was the bitchface.

"I didn't mean it like-oh, you know what, I don't even care. You're impossible to talk to these days."

Dean's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He was sputtering out an insult, or maybe a question, his tongue couldn't figure it out. But he was mad either way.

"No Dean, ever since Cas left on that trip, you're more angry pregnant crazy than usual. Seriously, what gives?"

Dean didn't answer, stubbornly ignoring his brother as he pushed himself to his feet. Kicking his feet into his slippers, he left their converted gym and marched as far away as he could get. No matter what his brother said, Dean was done having this conversation. He was perfectly fine for being a pregnant man and he wasn't going to listen to his dumb little-giant brother.

Knowing he probably sent Dean scurrying off to his room, Sam rolled his eyes and tried to finish his session without the cranky commentary.

* * *

Dean bypassed his room, heading straight toward the garage and the impala. He had his old man slippers on and couldn't give a rat's ass about how he looked right now. Sweatpants and a baggy shirt hardly made for an impressionable outing, but Dean needed to get out of the bunker and think for a second.

It wasn't until he was driving out of the garage that he allowed his thoughts to commence. Stupid Sam and his stupid yoga. And stupid Cas.

They were on hiatus from hunting, they hadn't said much about it, but Dean figured with his current state, everyone was just going to be there and...support him? He isn't really sure what he expected, let alone what he wanted, but was it too much to ask for?

He was technically a single parent and no matter how much Sam cared, he wasn't Dean's baby daddy.

Stopping at a nearby stop sign, Dean shook that thought from his head. It was unsettling enough being Sam's brother, Chuck knows he couldn't carry that man's baby. The guy was a fricken moose. And more importantly, his kale-hopped up _brother._

Shaking his head again, he's finally en route for the store absently rubbing his stomach. He was supposed to go in for a check up in a few days. The initial concern from the fall had gone away, and Doctor Mercury had a few standard pregnant-person things to look for. It was on the calendar in Sam's writing, so Sam must've made the appointment.

He was pulling into the parking lot of the store when his brother's words crossed over his mind again.

Dean wasn't upset because Cas was gone.

He was perfectly fine.

He didn't need Cas. He didn't need Sam. He could do this on his own.

Getting out of the car, he takes care to shove the keys in his pocket along with the stash of cash from the glovebox.

Stomping off toward the entrance, he grumbles under his breath. He never thought he could relate to women so much. But here he was, pregnant and hating all of the men in his life. Stupid non-pregnant bastards.

He's pushing a cart with no real intention of filling it up when his thoughts drift off to the women he did have in his life. The ones who have been through this process. Jody, Ellen, and most importantly, his mom.

Of course, Ellen wasn't exactly able to take calls right now and he isn't sure he's ready to tell Mary yet.

Now Jody...It wouldn't hurt to call her. He just had a few questions. And she wasn't going to freak out like his mom was. That was a situation he had no desire of seeing through. Mary was being so distant ever since she left the bunker.

It was hard just getting himself to respond to her check-in texts, let alone schedule an in-person meeting. If she even wanted to see him again.

And there he was, getting ready to cry in a store full of people and- _for the love of_ \- he was in front of the fruit again.

Pushing the cart away from the food in anger, he's barely looking where he's going. He does know that he's probably going to have an aversion to fruit after this whole ordeal is over.

Maneuvering between other patrons, Dean isn't feeling the most apologetic when he squeezes by. He's in the baby isle before he can tell his feet to take him to the liquor isle.

Surrounded by baby bottles and tiny toenail clippers, he's practically itching to talk to someone that has a uterus. (Which is a thing he's pretty sure Amara gave him. Not like he could cook up a kid without one.) His phone is burning a hole in his pocket and dammit, there were those weird crossed lines again.

Huffing out a sigh, he knows he's fit to burst. If the past few days have meant anything, it's that he isn't fine. He needs someone (other than his brother) to talk to about this. He's reaching for his phone before he can become anymore frustrated.

As it rings, he absently scans the shelves, slightly dwarfed by the wall of sippy cups and bibs. Kids needed so many things and he was hardly prepared.

He and Sam had started stocking up, but this kid wasn't going to be there for just a few weeks. It was going to be there forever.

His hand is up in his hair, tugging at the strands when Jody finally picks up. 

"Hey Dean, is everything all right?"

He's quiet for a heartbeat.

He didn't know why, but anytime someone asked him that question, even before he got pregnant, he got upset.

And now, it had the same affect, except this time, he was hormonal and sad and mad, and honestly _tired._ Holy shit how did women do this?

Clearing his throat, he sniffs in any tears that threaten to spill over. The phone is pulled away from him, but Jody still hears it. She doesn't say anything first.

Having stopped and almost quiet literally dropping everything when Dean called, she was obviously worried. And if the sound of a choked up Dean Winchester on her phone _wasn't_ concerning, then she was the Queen of England.

"H-hey Jody, been awhile...how have you been?"

The sheriff was quiet on the other end of the line. She was half tempted to pack the girls up and head straight to the bunker.

"I'm all right, are you okay?"

And that was it. He was definitely crying now, snot threatening to trickle into his mouth and the hand not holding his phone was covering his eyes. Good god. He was such a fricken mess.

Choked off and trying to speak, Dean managed to reply.

"I-I was just- and then Amara a-an and my mom. And fricken Sam with the yoga and the spinach. And Cas is gone. And I'm getting fat."

Jody had long since moved to sit down, and she was glad she did because she seriously thought she was dreaming for a second. Dean Winchester, _The Dean Winchester_ was crying on her phone.

But, nonetheless, her motherly instincts were ingrained inside of her, and she knew just how to handle overwhelmed people. With a gentle tone, she spoke, breaking through the broken musings of the eldest Winchester.

"Hey, it's all right, I'm so glad you called me."

Dean shook his head, he shouldn't be dragging other people into his mess. Of course, Jody couldn't see him moving his head and he wasn't ready to open his mouth again. If he did, he knows a flood of tears would come right with it.

"Can you tell me where you're at?" She asked, and Dean took in a deep breath.

"S-store. Had to get out of the bunker."

"Is Sam all right? Are you in danger right now?"

Dean straightened up at the question. Sobering instantly, like a light switch went off in his head. Jody was a Sheriff. She had _two_ kids to look after. She had more important things to do then listen to Dean bitch about his first experience as a woman.

"Oh, yeah...we're okay. I'm sorry Jody, I didn't mean to catch you while you were busy. Uh, hey, I'm gonna go. You tell the girls I said 'hi' okay?" He said lamely, finishing up the phone call before Jody could add anything else.

His phone went back into his pocket and he was wiping the last of his hormone outburst from his face. Looking around the store, his eyes caught sight of something he'd only seen in movies.

A pregnancy pillow.

He steered his cart closer, unknowingly squatting down before the thing like it was the holy grail. They looked so...cozy.

Grabbing the box with both hands, he dropped it into the cart without thinking.

He was out of the store with the box in hand and the receipt tucked into his pocket like a dirty little secret.

He kept one hand on the box the entire drive back to the bunker.

It was still light out, which meant Sam was still awake and would notice Dean bringing this inside. His eyes welled up with tears of frustration. He just wanted to take a nap. He didn't need Sam psychoanalyzing him as soon as he walked through the front door.

With his mind made up. Dean made sure the garage was empty before he opened the box. He tossed the box into the backseat, fully prepared to throw it away after a brief nap.

Unfolding the pillow was like unfolding a playboy. Good god did this thing look good. Oh yeah, he was going to pass the fuck right out on top of this.

It was rumpled and a tad deflated from the box, but Dean didn't let that stop him from stretching across the impala's front seat. He shuffled around, wrangling his body and maneuvering the pillow until everything lined up and a choir of angels was singing.

It was perfect.

His slippers were kicked off and the impala was secure around him, covering him on all sides, and the pillow. Shit, that pillow worked wonders on his body. It filled every space he didn't know was aching and hugged it in such a gentle manner that he was seconds from drifting. After this pregnancy was over, he wasn't so sure he'd be getting rid of this pillow.

One of his knees was hiked up close to his stomach, and his arms were wrapped around the pillow, hugging it loosely.

He didn't need Castiel. Or his stupid brother.

* * *

Three hours had gone by and Sam was growing increasingly more worried. He checked Dean's room already. The kitchen was empty as well as the armory, the living room, and the laundry room. Dean wasn't in the bunker and he had already called him three times with no answer.

He was heading to the garage, fully intent on driving up and down the streets of Lebanon until he found his brother. Before he could get so far as climbing into one of the many other cars in the garage, he saw the impala.

He was ready to start loosing his mind and yell out everything in the book to his brother. That changed when he got close enough to see what the hell Dean had been doing for the greater part of four hours.

Reaching a hand out for the driver's side door, he stops dead in his tracks.

There, resting in the front seat was Dean.

And he was cuddling the largest pillow Sam had ever seen.

His shoulders dropped and he couldn't help but shake his head. It was weird thinking that his big brother, his monster killing, beer drinking, womanizing brother would ever be _adorable._ But here they were.

Just when Sam realized he had been staring for FAR too long, Dean's phone was ringing out from underneath the cushion. And this time, his brother was waking up.

Moving like his ass was on fire, Sam had rushed out of the garage and was somehow pretending to read a book in the library when his brother finally came in.

He wasn't going to chide Dean or tease him, but the picture he took with his phone was definitely something he was going to send to Cas. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is showing. Its official.

He was dead.

He wasn't _actually_ dead, but to the world, he was.

He was knocked the fuck out. Spaced out. On cloud nine. Sleeping like the dead (and he would know because he's been dead before).

This pillow was probably the best thing in his life. If he could, he would marry the thing.

It isn't until that incessant ringing of his phone goes off for the hundredth time that he truly comes back to life. With a grumble and a roll, he's sliding on the Impala's bench seat, nearly tumbling into the footwell before he catches himself.

His phone somehow landed beneath the seat and is still ringing. Wrestling with his pillow, he paws at the floorboards until his fingertips finally graze the damned thing. Sitting up, for the first time in weeks, his back doesn't ache. Which is odd considering he just slept in his car, but nonetheless, gifthorse and all that.

When he brings his phone up, the screen displays the one name he was trying to ignore. His mother.

Thankfully, his phone had been ringing, lost to the depths of the impala, that the call dropped before he could even consider answering it.

Again, gifthorse and- seriously what the fuck was a gifthorse?

Shaking his head, Dean sits upright. The garage lights aren't as blinding as they were when he first parked. He doesn't know if that means Sammy was in here or if the frustrating anxiousness that he was suffering from disappeared.

Either way, it isn't a hassle getting out of the car. He does however, feel a ping of regret when he has to shove the pregnancy pillow into the trunk. Shuffling forward, his slippered feet do all of the walking as he makes his way back into the bunker.

Rubbing a tired hand down his face, he wanders for a moment. He's restless but not tired at the same time. It's seriously infuriating most days. One would think he was running marathons or climbing mountains with how tired his body is.

It's his fucking brain that never gives him a break. Always running and thinking of things he shouldn't be thinking about.

He passes the library and halfheartedly checks to see if his brother is inside (which he is, the little nerd). He's probably been in there for the entire time Dean was gone at the store. AND for his nap...however long that was.

Looking down, Dean sees the many notifications that his phone is so kind to remind him of, and checks the time.

When he notices the four o'clock where there should be a twelve o'clock, Dean grumbles in frustration. He missed lunch.

Making toward the kitchen now, Dean is a man on a mission. If he couldn't get drunk right now, he was going to do the next best thing.

With armfulls of ice cream, potato chips, and jalapeno poppers (that need to be put in the oven...like stat) Dean was prepared to stuff his face full until he couldn't move.

He's shoveling in spoonful's of ice cream while the jalapeno poppers cook. Never let it be said that Dean Winchester was a man that couldn't put away food. There were extra compartments inside of his stomach for this kind of thing.

As he eats, his mind is blissfully silent. Taking the time now to actually read what his phone has been chirping about, Dean moves on to the potato chips.

Missed calls from Sam (expected), messages from his mom (awkward), and a voicemail from Jody (...crap).

The phone is already up against his head before he can ignore the message. He'd never blatantly ignore Jody like that, not after all that she's done for them.

"...Hey Dean, I was calling back to make sure you were all right. That call was a little unsettling and I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything, you don't have to be in danger just to talk."

She sighs in the message and it has Dean welling up with tears.

He _wants_ to talk to somebody, he really does. But this is so far out of their usual element, he isn't sure how Jody would take it.

She ends the voicemail with a hopeful, "call me back".

The jalapeno peppers are beeping in the oven and Dean is stuck sitting there with his dumb thoughts. They are going to burn if he doesn't get up, but he's pretty sure he's having a mini mental breakdown and he doesn't want to risk splitting his already fucked up head by getting up.

It isn't until Sam ventures out of the library, pulled by the oven's timer, that he realizes how crazy he must look.

Sitting at the table, surrounded by half empty tubs of ice cream and three different bags of chips, looking at his phone like it killed his puppy.

"Dean-" The timer cuts Sam off, and the smell of something burning pulls both of their attention now. Sam rushes toward the oven, haphazardly grabbing for the cooking sheet with a dishtowel. It isn't thick enough to protect him from the heat, but it works long enough for him to throw the tray onto the stove.

Dean jumps in his seat at the sound. Sam has his wrist in his hand, hissing at the burn on his palm, and Dean finally manages to snap himself out of whatever the heck that was.

He's at his brother's side without another second to waste. Wordlessly, he leads Sam to the sink, turning the cold water on and urging Sam's hand into the cool relief. Sam has his eyes trained down at his brother, there are tears silently streaming down his face that Sam isn't entirely sure Dean is aware about.

"Dean, I'm okay its-

"Shut up," he trembles through a shaky exhale. "Just...just let me-let me fix it. I can do this. I've done it before."

Sam watched as his older brother continued washing his hands for him, and Sam, being the hapless puppy that he was, didn't stop him. He doesn't know if Dean is still talking about the burn...or the baby.

"I-I know Dean, I'm okay. Thank you, I think that that's enough."

Dean looks like he's going to protest for a second, but he blinks rapidly, just now coming down from his haze of dread. He shuts the water off then, his hand still clutching Sammy's wrist as he pats it dry. They don't speak until every drop of water is gone.

"I want to go visit Jody." Dean says, and to say Sam wasn't completely thrown by the request would have been a lie. Dean releases his hand and the two finally look up at each other.

"Why?" Sam asks before he can stop himself. Hurriedly he adds, "I mean-I'm not saying no, it's just...why now?"

Dean sighed. His hands reached for the counter behind him, catching his lower back as he leaned into the granite. His brother suddenly looked hundreds of years older. Like the weight of the last few weeks had finally crushed him and he could no longer stand because of it.

"I can't talk to you about these things Sammy. I just...I just can't. You've never _had_ kids. You've never had to raise another living being," a small smile creeps onto Dean's face and it has Sam cocking up an eyebrow in response.

"'cept for that dumb dog you had- what was his name? Stoned? Bonehead? Boomerang?"

The air bursts through his nostrils in a quick sign of amusement. They both know the dog's name, but Dean is trying to ease the magnitude of this new problem. And it was a problem, a big problem. If Sam couldn't help his brother through this then who would? It wasn't like a certain feather-head was here. And their mom needed space, or at least, to grieve her sons that she no longer (but still) had.

Dean's smile died down and Sam hated it. He hated feeling so useless, stuck watching Dean do everything because he wasn't prepared or educated enough on the subject to help him.

But, like his big brother, Dean could read him pretty well, so Sam plastered on an encouraging smile.

"Hey, it's okay. As a matter of fact, I'll go call Jody right now, I know she'll be happy to have you over at anytime. If you think she can help you with this then you have to go. I want you to be able to talk to somebody that at least has an _idea_ of what you're going through."

Dean looked up at Sam, eyes glassy but filled with a light he hadn't seen in days.

"Sammy, you know I don't like...resent you or some shit...right?"

Sam paused, his eyes flit to the farthest corner of the room. They had never talked about this. When they were kids Sam practically hated Dean. But then again, kids rarely enjoy their parents. Always bossing them around, taking care of them by taking all the hard jobs like Dean had. He'd probably be some snooty pompous asshole if Dean hadn't raised him.

But getting him there hadn't been easy. Sam knows he was a pain in the ass on good days with his brother. Now that he was older he couldn't help feel that Dean hated him for it. And he should, it would be merited. Sam wouldn't judge him for that. He was a little shit growing up.

The lack of a response has Dean pulling his brother in by the back of his neck. He locks eyes with him in a way that makes Sam feel small.

"I will _never_ regret getting to be the one to raise you. Was it good? Hardly, I had shit to work with and I was a kid too. That's why this is so different. I mean-Sammy, you were practically my first kid, this one...this one is just...different."

Sam nodded. "I'm not upset about that," he starts, but at his brother's expression he rolls his eyes. "All right, maybe if I was younger or even a little less mature, I _might_ be worried about you skipping out on me now that you got the family you always wanted."

Dean's hand tightened on him and Sam sighed.

"It isn't that, I know you'll be here, I know that this baby isn't going to change that. I just-I just wish I could offer you the help that you need." He finished lamely.

Dean frowned. He knew, logically that what his brother said had some truth in it. He was done hunting, he didn't really need to stay in the bunker anymore. If he really thought about it, he was never planning on staying here, but...he had always assumed Sam would come with him.

They didn't need to live in the same house or be conjoined at the hip anymore, but they had done their part for the world. They deserved to go spend the rest of their lives like _normal_ human beings. Brothers, well, normal brothers anyway, probably only saw each other for the holidays or the family reunions. Dean didn't want that and that was how Sam helped him.

He wasn't just his brother, he was his _friend,_ and he'd be damned if Sam thought that wasn't enough.

Pulling him roughly into a hug, Sam cradles his brother like he's made of glass.

And for once Dean doesn't goad him for it.

It's when he's coming his little brother's hair back, rubbing a heavy hand down his back like he used to do when he was just a baby, that Sam relaxes.

"You _are_ helping me Sammy. This is more than enough. I just want you to be there, and I need you to be there." Dean presses, pulling apart enough to get a look at his brother's face.

Sam looks surprised, the admission is both a much needed and cherished one.

"I want you to come with me to Jody's."

Sam has a genuine smile on his face now and he's nodding in agreement before they can say anything else.

They make for the hallway, heading to their rooms to pack for their journey when Dean turns to look up at his brother once more.

"Besides, who the hell else is going to hold my hair when I upchuck?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam are on the road again.

It's thirty minutes into the drive that he realizes his mini-coma of a nap wasn't enough and he's _still_ tired. Sam must notice because he's trying to calmly suggest he drive Baby while Dean gets into the back for another nap.

Like that would ever happen.

Fat chance.

.

.

.

Ten minutes later Sam somehow wrangled him into the backseat _and_ found his super secret comfy pillow.

To be fair, Dean didn't real put up enough of an effort to hide it.

Plus the nosey little shit was going to find out about it anyway.

Dean packed enough supplies to last them two months, most of it didn't fit in the trunk so it migrated to the back seat. Sam must have moved some stuff around, but, like a fool, he forgot to bring the cooler up there. Away from his pregnant clutches.

Sam is driving in somewhat blissful silence, proud to be taking care of his big brother for once in their lives. That's when he smells the pickle juice.

He doesn't turn his eyes from the road when he speaks, trying not to let the tiny bit of amusement reach his voice when he addresses his brother.

"Dean?"

His eyes meets Dean's in the rearview mirror, Dean is halfway through a pickle, eyes wide open like a deer caught in the headlights. 

"I thought you were taking a nap man?"

He divides his attention between the road and the mirror, finding his brother's guilty face all too funny. This is one of those moments in their lives that he wants to burn inside of his memory. It was so normal that it was nearly painful.

They were on the road, being idiots like the used to when they were kids.

Or at least, when they were on the road last week.

Or the week before that.

Or the month before that.

Really... anytime they get in the car they are stupid. There is no limit of time in which they aren't.

Probably because this is where they are most comfortable. This is home for them.

So Sam pretends not to see Dean sneak another pickle, turning the music up in favor of listening to his brother crunch away, and makes toward Jody's.

* * *

For the longest time, almost three months now, Dean hasn't had any bad dreams. Even the ones he did have weren't that memorable or triggering. He thought, like an idiot, that that meant he had gotten over them. Accepted his trauma or some shit.

He was wrong.

It's cold. He doesn't know how because hell wasn't ever cold. And neither was purgatory. He was always warm, always sweating. Then again, the sweat could have been because he was usually running for his life or being tortured alive.

He has no idea where he's at, but he knows that there is warmth somewhere nearby. 

It's with his hands rubbing up and down his arms that he treks through this abyss. Complete and utter darkness befalls him and he doesn't know how he came to this place, or even what this place is.

It can't be hell.

It's so quiet.

He walks for what seems like years, growing colder and colder as time passes on. The darkness never seems to end. There are no walls to touch and no doors to open. Its like he's in the ocean, except there's no water to drown him in. Strangely enough, he doesn't think he needs the water. Darkness fills his lungs and continues to devour him to the point of madness.

And just when he's on the brink, as he had been so many times before, he finds the light.

It isn't what he expects, but then again this is a dream, and he's never really been in control of his dreams before. A fire sits in the distance. Acting like a beacon in the black of this never-ending night.

The closer he gets, the fire takes shape. As he stands within reaching distance, he knows now that the fire is a bonfire. Contained within the confines of the wood underneath it.

He can handle a fire like this. This is something he can douse with water and put out in a minute.

He stands beside the fire, wondering, briefly, if there is any heat coming off of the flames. He certainly doesn't feel any warmer.

His hand stops rubbing one of his arms. His whole body stops trembling for a moment. Reaching out, unsure and ignorant as ever, he touches the flame.

At first, nothing happens.

He's still cold, the only difference is that his hand is right inside of a burning flame.

The pain he feels takes him by surprise.

He's wet.

It isn't urine and it isn't water.

Dean doesn't need to look down to know what it is, but like before, he has never really had any control over his dreams anyway. So he looks down.

Deep beneath the mound that is his pregnant stomach is a wound. He can _feel_ it. Blood pours out of him, drenching his lower body faster than he can comprehend.

He looks down even further, unsure of when he came into a room. It's familiar in a way he isn't willing to admit. But as the fire grows, he can't deny it any longer.

He's in Sammy's nursery. The crib sits against the wall beneath him, the dresser is diagonal to the door, and he's stuck to the ceiling. The fire is warm now, slowly creeping up the walls of the bedroom and causing a sweat to break out all over his body.

He's going to die.

He and his baby are going to die.

Just as the fire cocoons him, he closes his eyes and screams.

* * *

The drive to Jody's is almost six hours. Dean had managed to drive two of them after his first nap, but he's rightfully exhausted when the sun sets. Sam doesn't hesitate to put his brother in the backseat once more.

He's nearly ten minutes from Jody's house, within running distance, when all hell breaks loose.

Dean had started fidgeting in his sleep a couple of minutes ago, but it wasn't anything Sam wasn't used to. Dean didn't sleep like a rock. He moved around his bed like he would in a fight.

Which, with their track records of nightmares and getting knocked out on a regular basis, being unconscious is one of the hardest things they have to do.

Dean stops for awhile, long enough that Sam thinks he'll make it all the way to Jody's.

The music is on, gently reminding Sam to keep his eyes open. He's just down the street from the girls when Dean wakes up.

Sitting upright, Dean doesn't hesitate to use all of the pent up air trapped in his lungs to let out one of the loudest and most uncensored screams he's ever made. He doesn't even know if he's really awake.

It isn't until he feels the Impala swerve and Sammy veer off the road that he figures it out.

That doesn't mean he's okay.

He can still feel the blood on his stomach. He knows its there. The air feels as constricted here as it did in his dream. The pregnancy pillow is in the way and Dean shoves it off of his body with little preamble.

Sam's already stopped the car and is trying to find the overhead light to check on his brother. Dean hardly notices. He's too busy pawing at his shirt, cupping the curve that is his baby, in hand. He's doubled over, positive that if he moves he'll split right open like in his dream.

Sam has the light on by now, halfway over the front seat when he sees the look of pure and unadulterated _fear_ on Dean's face. There's sweat matting his hair to his forehead, his eyes are clenched shut and he's rocking back and forth as subtly as possible.

It's freaking Sam the fuck out.

Hands hovering over his brother's body, Sam knows all too well how waking up from a nightmare can leave you in a state of near hysteria. He doesn't touch his brother, not until Dean can stop rocking back and forth.

It comes in stages, his brother's resurfacing. Dean manages to scrounge himself into a smaller ball. Protecting his stomach, his _baby_ from whatever dangers his dream concocted. But he's stopped rocking.

Slowly, he reaches out, speaking in a whisper so as not to spook Dean any further.

"Dean?"

His hand rests on his shoulder for a second before Dean is launching himself at Sam. The car rocks with the sudden movement, the bench seat between them however, doesn't budge. But Dean doesn't care. His arms are around Sam's neck, pulling him as close as the space permits and if Sam is surprised, he doesn't show it.

He hugs back just as fiercely. Carrying Dean's weight as it sags into the footwell. The two don't part for what seems like years, but when they do, Dean makes the first move.

With a sniff, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to wash his face clean, Dean sits back.

Sam watches as his brother gathers his bearings, noticing the tremble in his brother's hand as he brushes his hair back. It's longer now, all the prenatal vitamins are making it grow like crazy. Sam knows that Dean is dying to get it cut, but he hasn't wanted to leave the bunker unless he was in dire need of something. The excursion getting the pillow had been the first time Sam had seen his brother willingly leave, and by himself for that matter, in days since Cas left.

Dean looks up then, taking in their surroundings, and when he sees just how close they are to Jody's he contemplates walking the rest of the way.

Both Sam and the Doctor had said exercising was important. Running away from his problems sounded like a great idea then.

But Sam must be reading his mind or something, because he merely turns in his seat and restarts the Impala. Dean doesn't say anything, and by Sam's reaction, he isn't expecting him too. 

Jody's house comes into view and the lights turn on right as Baby pulls into the driveway behind the cruiser. Sam shifts gears and is pulling the key out of the ignition by the time Jody makes her way out to the front porch.

Dean is already out of the back seat, pregnancy pillow in his arms and an expression something akin to a kicked puppy. Sam breathes a sigh of relief when he sees his brother take off, right into Jody's open arms.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up with the girls and Sam.

Voices are arguing in hushed tones. It's supposed to be out of respect for the sleep he _had_ been doing, but he's awake now. Dean doesn't open his eyes at first. Too comfortable, even if its on Jody's couch and his bladder is full.

He's so warm and his pillow, A.K.A. his favorite thing in the entire world, is wedged between his legs and tucked safely in his arms. God he never wants to get up.

The voices are bickering once more, only louder, and he hears the distinct sound of a camera going off before two sets of feet go running out of the living room.

Heavier foot steps come into the living room and Dean knows that its his brother without even having to open his eyes. Sam walks over to where he's laying and nudges him with a sock-covered foot.

"C'mon, the girls are dying with questions. Jody's starting breakfast."

Dean frowned into his pillow. He wanted to tune his brother out but if he did, it was likely that Jody would come and find him herself and he wasn't willing to tango with that.

Untangling himself from his pillow like a squid caught in a net, he sits himself upright. His shirt has ridden up during the night and his little fruit cake is poking at the waistband of his sweats.

Of course that's when both Claire and Alex come into the room. He's sluggish from sleep, so it isn't exactly subtle when he tugs his shirt down over his stomach.

His shirt isn't skin tight, but they both saw the bump. There's no mistaking the look on their faces.

Dean isn't going to tango with either of them either. Raising a hand, he waves off both of their questions and pushes himself to his feet.

"Can't talk without coffee." He deadpans and walks right past them both to the bathroom.

Sam calls out after him, "Doctor says you can't have coffee anymore!" And Dean's day just gets all the more difficult.

After he's gone to the bathroom and thoroughly washed his hands (he's stalling, shut up). He finds himself at Jody's table with four sets of eyes on him and a distinct lack of coffee in his gut.

"Well, I uh, I guess I have news?" He cringed.

Band-aid. This was just like a band-aid, he just needed to spit it out and then he could have what ever that glorious smell was wafting in from the kitchen.

Taking in a deep breath, he blurts it out before he exhales.

"Impregnant"

Three sets of eyes blink back, confused and trying to slow down whatever jumbled mess he managed to spit out at them before he lost the nerve.

Claire talks first, the lack of filter on her never ceases to amaze him.

"You're what?"

He scrubs his face with one hand while the other supports his weight on the table. He's already on his feet and pulling up his shirt just to show them because if he has to say it twice he'll scream.

Three sets of eyes stop blinking and three mouths drop open.

Jody is the first to recover, ever the faithful adapter that she is, Jody can recover next to anything.

"Well that phone call makes more sense."

Dean shakes his head and is ready to stalk back off to the couch when Jody grabs his hand.

"Hey, honey, I'm only going to ask this once, and if you don't want to answer, you don't have to." Alex and Claire are still looking at his stomach, long after he's covered it back up, and neither of them can come with anything better than "HOW?!"

Rolling her eyes, Jody gently squeezes his hand. It's enough to draw his attention back to her, and Dean watches as she concedes to the girls' question.

"How?"

Now that he's sitting back once more, his free hand is pooled on his lap, he's consciously fighting the urge to cup his belly now that he has all of the attention right on him.

"It was Amara. When she was ready to make stuff happen with the big ball in the sky, I talked her off the ledge. _Chuck"_ he said, trying to push past the oddity that was his real and actual life, "got her to stop and they kind of headed off for a family reunion. Before she left, she said she was going to give me something that I needed."

Dean stopped talking, his hand (the traitorous bastard) somehow made it to his stomach, but he doesn't really care that they all see it.

With a light laugh, he continues.

"I thought she was talking about mom." Sam gives him a sad smile from across the table, but he doesn't say anything. Dean was doing really well just talking to begin with. He didn't need any more support than what the girls were offering already.

"I was sick for a couple of weeks and Sammy made me go to the doctor's. I uh, I told the doctor we got shit luck and to look for the weirdest crap out there, because y'know, I could've had anything by that point. But a few days later, he asked us to go back and he dropped the baby bomb on me."

His phone is in his pocket and he fishes it out, pulling up the picture of his sonogram. He sets it on the table for all three girls to look at and they jump at the opportunity.

Claire picks up his phone holding it close to her face. There's something like amazement on her face, but her words hardly sound impressed.

"This looks like a chameleon."

Before Dean can reach over and snatch his phone back, Jody does it for him. Alex is leaning over her shoulder and the two stare at the image with both a serious and clinical gaze.

Ultimately, they both came to the same conclusion.

He was definitely pregnant.

"Holy shit, that's so cool." Alex said, and Jody didn't even try to admonish her for it. She simply grabbed Dean's hand again.

"So, I'm only assuming, based on the giant pillow taking up most of my sofa, that you're keeping it?" Jody, even for a sheriff, was terrible at subtly. There was hope in her voice and Dean was fitting to burst into tears all over again.

Support. It was support.

Fuck it felt so nice.

He shook his head, doing a piss poor job at hiding his glassy eyes.

"Yeah, I am."

Clearing his throat, he shook off the bubbling excitement rising up from his gut. Though, he doesn't think excitement is the only thing in his gut when his stomach grumbles out in protest.

Jody is up in a flash then, a smile on her face bigger than Texas.

"We need to get some food in you, oh my god, there is so much that we'll have to do. I'll call into the station and we can spend today going over your list." She's already up and heading to the kitchen when she stops. Peeking her head around the corner, she asks, "you do have a list right? Things you need to still get for the baby and yourself for after?"

The trepidation is back on Dean's face.

The wheels are on this bad boy and he's just realized that the more people that he tells, the more real all of this becomes. Good God, he thought he and Sam were bad when it came to shopping for the baby, Jody was going to go nuts on baby shit.

Claire is out of her seat before Dean can fully lose his shit. Dean, for a second, thinks that she's stormed off, but she comes back with a pen and paper before he can even ask. The two share a look and Dean can't help but feel immensely proud of her.

The girl rolls her eyes and nudges the paper closer to him.

"Shut up, just write your list."

* * *

"C'mon Dean, you can do this."

Sam was already in the store ahead of him. Jody was probably already in the baby isle and Alex and Claire had gone off to school. Thank Chuck, he didn't need anymore eyes on him.

Three days into his stay at casa Mills, he had more Sam's hovering around his every move. Alex, the rising Nurse/doctor was asking all of these medical questions that Dean hadn't even considered himself.

Claire had taken to scouting out every room for possible dangers, going so far as to move all of the knives in the kitchen. She won't even let him microwave his own stuff. She was convinced (by both Alex _AND_ Sam) that if he stood too close to the microwave, he would be exposed to radiation. He's never hit a kid, but he nearly kicked Claire when she vetoed his hot pocket.

And Jody.

Jody had already offered him her bed instead of the guest room, going on and on about body aches (which he has, but still). She took over control of his diet, even insisted he sit down when it was time to clean up around the house. If he even _thinks_ about standing long enough to do the dishes, Jody is threatening to kneecap him.

But that wasn't the worst.

No.

He could withstand months of this shit. But this? Standing before him like the fiery gates of hell, was THE _WORST_ thing ever.

Babies-R-us.

With his teeth grit and his hands balled up into fists, he charges into the store like he would a fight.

He doesn't acknowledge the cashier that greets him upon entering, she's far too happy for him to even consider looking at. He's pissed off, he's embarrassed, and he's hungry.

Thankfully, this stupid store was in the mall. Maybe if he put up with Sam _and_ Jody's bullshit, he could get one of those big ass cookies from the cookie place. And a pretzel. With hot sauce.

He marches on, more enthusiastic about shopping now that he's got a goal, _nay,_ a light at the end of this tunnel. Jody has a cart, there is something like an exercise ball in it along with an obscene amount of creams in there. He doesn't even know what half of them are for, hell, he doesn't think he WANTS to know.

"Oh good, you're here, I was about to go looking for the bigger items on your list. We can put an order on them and have them sent to the bunker. I'm sure your angel friend could fly them there just as well, but-

Dean must be making a face or something because Jody has stopped talking. She turns to look at him fully, something pensive sweeps across her face, a fleeting thought that she doesn't push him further on.

Bringing up Cas was a sore spot for him, the angel hadn't replied to any of his texts in the past week or answered any of the calls he knows Sam has made.

He isn't willing to drive himself, or the baby, crazy with worry. Castiel was a big boy, he could take care of himself. Plus, he wasn't taken, he had willingly left the bunker, leaving Dean in the dead of night. 

If he hadn't have gotten that pillow, he probably would have been forced to cuddle up next to Sammy. And that was just a no-no zone he wasn't willing to touch; his entire brother's body.

Jody was pushing the cart, half expecting Dean to lose interest and wander off, _which is exactly what he did five minutes later._ He might have gone down the rabbit hole of Babies-R-Us, lost in the neverland of toys, but he couldn't help it. He was going to have a baby and babies used tiny little toys. Tiny little giraffes, happy little bunnies, bright red trucks, a set of keys that couldn't possibly start any kind of vehicle, and one of those annoying popper vacuums.

He's pretty sure he and Sammy will end up playing with these more than the baby. It's not like he doesn't remember having toys as a kid, he tried his best so Sam could have the similar experiences that he had but he knows he fell short a lot of the time. He wasn't going to go through that again. He wanted his kid to have everything.

When he finds Jody again, it's with his arms full of baby toys and a smile on his face. Jody took one look at the cart, and then one look at Dean and didn't say anything. So long as he was happy, she'd willingly push around a cow for him.

Sam came around the corner then, having found them after his own little recon mission. Dean looked up as his little brother approached them, there was something akin to a smile on Sam's face and Dean wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing or not. The little shit was downright devious when he wanted to be, so Dean wasn't surprised when Sam pulled something out from behind his back.

What he found however, was something Dean never would have dreamed of finding for the baby. Holding in his gigantor hands was a replica of the Impala, a few years behind his Baby's, but it was the same black and that's all Dean cared about.

"Oh my god Sammy, I think you just got promoted to favorite uncle."

Taking the toy from his brother's hands, Dean decided to ignore the fist pump his brother did in light of his awesome find.

"Okay, now that we've got all the things that we could find on your list, is there anything else you were interested in looking for today?" Jody asked.

Dean would die before he admitted it, but his face instantly turned crimson. He gave Jody the list with the intent of never showing Sam or either of the girls. Call it a pact amongst mothers if you will, but Dean had need of certain things that only pregnant women used, and he wasn't about to start asking Sammy to go and get him things.

Mainly, pregnancy pants.

As much as the sweatpants were working, they were _way_ too thick some days when he was battling his new weird temperature changes. He was not going to call them hot flashes. He needed better shirts, something breathable. And more unfortunately, he needed a different kind of underwear.

He didn't understand how his briefs weren't cutting it, but the bands were becoming a problem, leaving imprints under his stomach that itched when he changed.

Basically, he needed a new wardrobe.

Thankfully, Jody knew about that and came fully prepared to send Sammy on a number of tasks "for the baby". As they waited in line at the check-out, Jody turned to Sam.

"Okay, so when we're finished here, Dean and I will be heading to a few other stores. I'll need you to go to the electronics store and look for some baby monitors, I've sent you a few that work really well signal-wise for the bunker's depth. Also, there is a bookstore in here with a couple of books on feeding techniques and I want you to find one and grab whatever bottle brand they recommend."

Sam's eyes were wide, but he seemed to be retaining everything that Jody was saying. Dean however, was lost thirty seconds into Jody's spiel. Thank god those weren't his tasks to complete. He'd have already failed.

"Oh, also could you take these bags out to the car, I don't want to carry them around with us while we're at the other shops."

Jody didn't even wait, simply passing the bags over to a slightly overwhelmed Sam. Gently grabbing Dean by his elbow, she started to lead him out of the store and into the main walkway for the mall.

Dean sent a sympathetic, and perhaps slightly mocking look at his brother over his shoulder.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jody questions Dean while simultaneously helping him try on clothes.

If Dean had known how hard buying pants was, he would've just went with the skirts.

He's not big, by any means, his little fruitcake is a cup in his hand. But then again, he kind of has big hands.

Maybe he is a little big, so what? He's pregnant. He has an excuse.

But putting on pants that didn't look remotely stupid was harder than fighting the devil. Men's clothes didn't have a maternity section so he was stuck with what the women's section had.

To be contrite, women's sizes were stupid. What the hell was a zero? Literally no one could measure zero inches around their waist.

People had flesh and bones and organs that needed to be included.

After trying, and failing to fit into the first couple of pairs by himself, he was left with little option but to ask Jody for help.

Chuck dammit, he wanted a hole to open beneath him. He wanted to cry and punch Sam and his dumb, baby-less stomach for getting to do literally anything other than this.

He hadn't even gotten his pretzel yet.

"Lift your foot, okay, we're doing good, c'mon other leg." Jody said, easing the waistband up his legs.

It was stretchy for a reason, so he could strangle himself with it.

Women's jeans were so tight on his calves, of all places he thought would be a tight squeeze, he didn't even think about his fucking CALVES.

Jody knew right when she got the jeans to his knees that they weren't going to fit.

She could also see the impending meltdown that the hunter was fighting to hold back. A proud man like Dean Winchester would _not_ burst into tears here.

But a (in terms of gender identity) confused person just might. This was the new Dean Winchester. The mother, the cuddler, and the cry-er.

Great.

"You know what, I think I saw a few other pairs that might work, I'll go right back out and check with the floor manager."

Before Dean could protest, Jody was off, leaving Dean in the dressing room in his boxers and t-shirt.

Grumbling, he fished his phone out of his jeans on the floor and sent his brother a text.

**Dean** (2:34 pm) : pick me up one of those salty pretzels

**Dean** (2:34 pm) : and a cookie

**Dean** (2:34 pm) : a big cookie with sprinkles

**Dean** (2:34 pm) : and some hot sauce

Sam doesn't reply right away and Dean wants to ram his head into the dressing room door.

When he finally does, Dean smiles and mentally cheers.

**Sam** (2:35 pm) : I will, geez, cool it with the cravings

Like Dean could stop it. Whatever the little angel cake wanted, they were gonna get.

He finds himself seated at the bench in the dressing room, wondering to himself when he started thinking of the baby as an angel. Surely it hadn't started when the doctor started comparing it to food.

No, fruit cake was just fine, he was probably just craving angel food cake. Or something.

Blue eyes flashed in his mind for a second and Dean's eyes welled up with tears of frustration.

No.

Castiel was not why he started thinking of the baby as angel cake.

He wasn't even the father.

The meltdown that Dean thought he was spiraling toward suddenly pumped the breaks and Dean couldn't help but snort. Good God, if he was so worried about that (not that he ever has since he found out about the baby) he should've called Maury Povich.

Wouldn't that be an interesting show? Seeing if an angel of the lord was the father of his magical baby, given to him by God's sister.

Dean was laughing now. He couldn't help it at times like this. Pregnant man, missing angel, God's sister, and Jody was carrying a dress.

Wait, what?

The hamster running on its wheel in his mind just tripped and smashed into the metaphorical ground up there.

Jody let herself into the changing room and started hanging an armful of items on the hooks behind the door.

Turning, she holds out the preferred dress to Dean like it's just a pair of pants or something normal for him to wear.

At the look on his face Jody rolls her eyes.

"Really, you're going to freak out about a night shirt? Did you forget that you're a pregnant man?"

Dean didn't say anything back, too busy studying the "shirt". It was long, not flowy sundress long, but it would probably reach his knees if he put it on. (And that was a big IF.) It looks actually more like a Jersey than anything else. It wasn't flowery or pink or purple, it didn't have anything stupid or motivational printed on it, it just had the number 33 written on it, for whatever reason, and Dean realized he really wanted to try it on.

Reaching out, he feels the material. It's nothing like his flannels. Sure those are pretty worn in and comfy, but they aren't _this_ soft. Holy shit, this is smooth.

Standing up, he barely manages to pull his shirt overhead in his haste to get the dress on.

Jody helps him, an amused look on her face as she takes the shirt off of the hanger. Over his head and down his arms, the shirt is on and Dean wants to cry.

Its loose, which is nice, it leaves room for his ever-expanding belly to grow. It is long on his arms too, so long in fact that it pours over his wrists and covers his hands.

He needs thirty of these.

He's never going to wear pants again.

Fuck pants, what was he thinking, trying on pants? Who needed those torturous bastards?

Certainly not pregnant Dean. That Dean was currently on a different realm.

Jody has a full blown smile on her face now and she stands back to admire her work.

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere."

Dean lets out a quick huff through his nose, finally looking up at the sheriff with a bemused expression.

"If by somewhere, you mean a bed so I can take a nap, then yes. We're getting there."

Someone knocks on the door to the dressing room and both Dean and Jody turn to it like it means to attack them.

"Dean?" Sam calls out and Dean smells the pretzel in all its buttery goodness. He doesn't hesitate to pull open the door, snatching the snack out of his brother's hands as he starts munching away happily.

Sam looks at him with wide eyes, its then that he realizes he's still in the night shirt. But with the pretzel and the softness from the shirt, Dean could surprisingly care less.

"Thanks Sammy." He says, or attempts to say, managing through a mouthful, "Thanks shamme."

Sam rolls his eyes, no longer affected by the dress, and turns to Jody.

"So get this, I found a set of baby monitors that double as cameras."

Yeah, Dean's really glad Jody sent Sam on that mission.

* * *

They went over board. But he liked the shirts. He wasn't too proud to admit he almost cried when he had to put his jeans back on.

Thankfully, they managed to find _some_ pants. Mainly for later in his pregnancy, but still they would work and jody said she could cut out the lining of his jeans and replace them with elastic if all else failed.

He's just happy he found alternatives to sweatpants. Seriously, he was having hot flashes. He couldn't always wear sweats or jeans. 

They had already got what they needed in the pants department, but they weren't done with his lower half just yet. 

They ended up in undergarments, Sam had already disappeared, searching for the rest of the things on Jody's list.

Seeing as it was a maternity store, the only underwear they had was for pregnant women. Nonetheless, Jody was undeterred. She grabbed a couple of packages, reaching into the back and pulling out a single pair. Before Dean could ask what she was doing, Jody was pushing him, gently turning him around as she measured the underwear against the back of his jeans.

He was too surprised to react, Jody had already figured his size and was dropping two of the packages into the cart.

"So," she said, pushing the cart. Dean dreaded whatever was going to come out of her mouth next, but still followed after her as she walked.

"Your phone call earlier. You said that Cas was gone?"

Dean sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair and then over the back of his neck.

"Yeah, he said he had some business, but it's fine. I'm _fine._ " He said and Jody tried to believe him.

"How long has he been gone?"

Sam already gave him his cookie saying that he only got one, so Dean had nothing to stuff in his mouth to shut himself up. 

It sounds weak to his ears when he whines, "two weeks".

Jody smiles at him sympathetically and leads them through the shirts. Actual shirts, not night shirts. Sadly.

The shirts look tighter, so Jody keeps moving, absently listening to Dean and his whining.

"I couldn't sleep those first couple of days after finding out and Cas really helped me out. The stupid son of a bitch." He grumbles out the last part under his breath.

Jody smiles, a secret smile to herself, and waits for Dean to catch up as they make for the checkout.

When they've scanned everything and have it all bagged up, Jody leads them out of the store, finally speaking up.

"He'll be back."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching up with Castiel.

"You need _what?"_ Sam had said.

Castiel had just come from the kitchen, leaving Dean to finish making his pie. He was still reeling from the minor implications of his feelings. He loved Dean, that much he knew, but...the baby inside of him, that couldn't be his.

It just couldn't.

Sam had gone to the library in search of some texts for their most recent hunt and Castiel had followed right after him. If he wanted to truly find an answer to this, he would have to go directly to the source.

He would have to find God.

Again.

The last time he had done that, he had a special tool to do so. One that he believed Sam was still in possession of.

"I would like the amulet in which you bequeathed your brother."

Sam blinks, he looks confused, but Castiel can't be certain. The expressions that the younger Winchester make are always so hard to interpret, much more so than Dean. But then again, he could spend a millennia staring at Dean Winchester, he's probably already memorized every freckle on that man's face by now he could paint a picture of him with his eyes closed.

"You want..." Sam started, but shaking his head, he fell silent.

He stalked out of the library and made his way down the hall, back toward his room. Castiel didn't know at first if he should follow or not, but when Sam looked over his shoulder, the angel moved to comply.

He waits outside of Sam's room, standing in the doorway as the younger Winchester opens a box on top of his dresser. It appears to be a jewelry box, and it holds more than just Dean's amulet, but Castiel doesn't pry for the other pieces that the box holds.

When Sam emerges, holding out the amulet to him, Castiel can't help but fold it gently into his palm. Looking up, he nods his appreciation to the man, and in the next blink of Sam's eyes, the angel is gone.

* * *

When he travels, flying place to place around the globe, the angel fears that the amulet isn't working. Just like the last time he used it.

He's standing before a mountain, no trace of humanity for miles, and he's losing hope. The trench coat around him feels stifling. There's snow nearby, but Castiel doesn't allow that to stop him from taking off that burdensome layer.

He drapes it over his arm and seats himself on a moss covered rock.

His tie is already loosened, but he takes it a step further by untying it completely, and tucking it into his suit jacket.

Pregnant. Dean Winchester was pregnant.

With, quite possibly, his baby.

A heavy hand rubs up and down the expanse of his face. He has stubble on his cheeks and it scratches his palm when he glides over it.

"Father," he starts, lost as the day when he first fell. Whether it was from heaven, or for Dean Winchester, he isn't entirely sure. But he hasn't prayed to any being, especially not to his father in _years_. He almost forgets how.

"Father, I-I need your guidance. I'm lost. I don't know what it is you want from me or Dean Winchester. He's with child. I cannot be certain if the child is mine. I wouldn't know how it even happened if it is. But I need your help."

He finishes with a sigh. His head is heavy, hanging until his hands come to brace its weight. His elbows dig into his knees and Castiel focuses solely on the horns of the amulet poking his leg where it rests in his pocket.

Nothing happens around him. The air doesn't shift and the mountain remains as big of a reminder of his father's absence like a sign from the heavens. It is entirely possible that Chuck and Amara are no longer on this planet. And if that was the case, Castiel had no idea where to start searching for them in the cosmos.

His vessel was limited. He couldn't just fly to the moon without repercussions.

A growl leaves him and suddenly he's tossing his coat onto the ground. Fingers dig into the mess that he's ruffled his hair into. Tugging on the strands, the angel doesn't know what he's supposed to do, he isn't even sure if Dean wants his help with this child. The man was perfectly capable of raising a child, Samuel was evidence enough of that.

As was Ben.

And the other great many number of children he's helped to save from the supernatural.

Dean is just so... _good,_ he finishes lamely.

He would make a wonderful parent. Castiel wouldn't even know where to begin taking care of a child. Sure, he's watched humans do it for centuries, he understands the basic mechanics, but to try a hand at it himself?

And what if the child were a Nephilim?

How was he to be sure no one would come looking for them? To come and try and take, or Chuck forbid, _kill_ it?

"He won't be," A voice says, startling Castiel from his rapidly descending thoughts.

The angel looks up, finding the long hair of (his aunt?) Amara and her dark brown eyes staring into his celestial being. Not many beings could do that, it was a little unnerving. Was this how Dean felt every time Castiel looked at his soul?

"Uh..." The angel couldn't seem to find the words he sought to speak miles ago.

Amara looked at him with a hint of amusement in her eyes. A smile crept onto her cheeks, and Castiel slumped further against the rock.

"Dean will be fine, I've helped his body in preparing for this gift. As for you," she starts, garnering Castiel's complete and utter attention. "You were willing to sacrifice the one thing you loved more than anything for my brother's creations. To answer your questions, _yes_ , this child is a part of you. I saw within Dean's soul, his deepest desires in life, and you were one of them."

Castiel all but melted into a puddle of sudden _human_ emotion that he didn't know what to think.

She held her hands together in front of her, slowly opening them and revealing what he already knew was there. A glowing blue shone in her hands and Castiel couldn't deny how happy he was to see it.

So what he felt was real. He was mortal now.

Human.

It brought moisture to his eyes and a smile to his lips.

"Go back to him."

With that, Amara is gone, leaving Castiel still sitting on his rock to compose himself.

He blinks, still in a state of shock, but unbearably happy. Standing, he makes to retrieve his lost coat and practically vibrates with giddiness.

As the chill of the nearby mountain seeps into his bones, he belatedly realizes he's got no mode of transportation.

As Dean would eloquently put it, "Son of a bitch."


End file.
